


How Things Should Be

by Imogen_LeFay



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 111,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_LeFay/pseuds/Imogen_LeFay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel's life is comfortable for a peasant with his work in the kitchen of Earl Anderson. It would be more comfortable, if he could rein in his feelings for the Earl's younger son, Blaine. But Kurt knows, life isn't a fairy tale. And lords marry ladies, they don't fall in love with kitchen servants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set in a vague medieval setting. I guess I've been watching too much Game of Thrones again, which leads to the center of power being the South while the North is considered a bit strange. Dalton is set around the border between North and South. I hope anything else is explained through the fic itself.  
> As for warnings, there are none in this part. In later parts arranged marriage, infidelity, spousal abuse.  
> ...wow, that sounds like fun.

A cold wind blew through the Caverra trees, and Kurt's hands were freezing. He closed his eyes for a second to stop them from tearing up, not that it helped. After the worst of the gust had calmed down, he opened them again and looked around to find his prize. There, at the edge of the branch was another perfect arrangement of berries, ripe enough to almost fall of on their own – almost, but not quite. They were exactly the thing that would turn tonight's feast into perfection. Kurt felt his mouth water at the thought of it. Not that he would get to share much of the actual meat...

As a servant in the kitchen at Lord Anderson's castle, Kurt still ate better than most peasants, but he would be lucky to get away with a few scraps of meat. The gravy though... it would be almost as good, and that was something the kitchen crew always shared.

Kurt cared for his work, and he insisted on doing it as close to perfection as possible. If that included ranging out in the gray hours of dawn to gather the perfect spices, herbs and berries, then so be it. The cook herself didn't care as much about perfection, but she was willing to let Kurt do what he wanted, given that he still fulfilled his obligations.

It didn't matter. He didn't do it for her appreciation. It was more important to him that he knew himself just how well the meal was prepared. And it was a good work. The hours were long, but he was fed well, lived in comfort, especially for a peasant, and still had some money left to send to his father back in Lima. It didn't even bother him that the family wasn't the easiest. Earl Anderson, ruling over the earldom of Dalton, was a hard man. He was strict and stern to both his servants and his family, but he was just in the treatment of those working for him. The countess was withdrawn, but never cruel. His sons, though, never really learned that the nobility should keep away from those lower than themselves. The older son, Cooper, was currently visiting with his wife, Lady Jane, and their two sons, and had taken great care to let everybody see just how little maturity he had gained through marriage and experience in ruling over a small territory under his father's control. As for the younger son...

Well, Kurt was always happy to find somebody appreciating his work.

His hands clasped around the berries and he tightened the grip he had with his legs around the tree branch before he ripped them off in one quick motion, and let them drop in the little basket he had brought with him. The floor of it was just so covered in berries now – enough for tonight's feast, certainly. For a moment he wondered whether he should get some more for the next few days, but they probably wouldn't keep.

He climbed back, taking special care now as to not lose the basket. He got back to the tree trunk, inch by inch, until he sat leaned against it. He took some deep breaths to steady himself. Climbing back to the trunk was annoying, but climbing down with the basket in his hand was complicated. If he could drop them carefully without berries falling out of it, it would be easier to get down, but he couldn't risk the berries falling into the grass. They were ridiculously vulnerable to stains, and attempts to wash them off would just ruin the taste – he had made his experiences with that as well.

Maybe he could put the basket between his teeth, while he climbed down...

“Need a hand?”

Kurt almost dropped the basket in shock when he heard the voice of another person, but just so managed to hold onto it.

“Sorry!”

The boy on the ground was smiling at him sheepishly, but still not too sorry for almost wasting an hour of Kurt's morning. Lucky for him, Kurt didn't have it in him to be angry at him, at least not for long.

“You're up early, M'lord,” he said instead, trying to look as calm as possible despite how he had been startled.

The answer was laughter, golden as a more beautiful morning. “I thought you agreed to drop the titles,” he said.

Kurt closed his eyes for a second, warmth filling him as the smile almost broke on his face. “Blaine,” he said. “And you're still up quite early today.”

Blaine shrugged. “I'm getting old, you know? Old people don't need as much sleep,” he said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Really, Blaine?” he asked. “It's still more than half a year till you'll even be of age, and I'm older than you are.” As he looked down again, he saw an adorable pout on the other boy's face. With a sigh, Kurt shook his head. “If we have to have this discussion again, at least let me climb down,” he said.

“Well, I would, but you're not moving,” Blaine said. “Are you sure you don't need a hand?”

“Can you catch the basket?” Kurt asked. “And the berries can't fall down, that's really important.”

“I think I can manage catching something,” Blaine said as he stepped closer, right below where Kurt was sitting.

“This is serious,” Kurt said.

Now it was Blaine who rolled his eyes. “You can trust me,” he said.

There wasn't much of a defense against that, so Kurt nodded and hoped for the best as he let the basket drop.

True to his word, Blaine caught it expertly. Relieved, Kurt turned to the trunk and started his way back down to the ground.

Halfway down, his foot stepped into nothing. Tired and distracted as he was, he lost his hold, and before he even realized that he was falling, he felt arms close around him and pull him away, safely to the ground.

Kurt felt his heart beat right up to his throat. The arms around him were still holding him close, Blaine's chest against his back, and now he could feel warm breath against his ear, tickling him.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. “Thank you,” he breathed. He closed his eyes, and took a few seconds to catch his breath and hold onto the sensation. Blaine had never quite grasped the concept of keeping his distance from the servants, but even so this particular closeness wasn't something Kurt was used to.

“Are the berries okay?” Kurt asked.

Blaine's laughter sent another gust of breath over his skin, and Kurt realized how quick his heart beat was – the fall probably had nothing to do with it, though.

“They're right over there,” Blaine said and unfortunately stepped away.

Kurt composed himself for a second before he turned around to inspect whether that was the truth. The basket was on the ground, a few feet from them, and as Blaine had promised, the berries were safe and untouched by grass.

“Well, good,” Kurt said and tried to recapture his usual air of confidence. But again, it was hard to appear serious when his eyes fell to Blaine, all helpful smile and shining, hazel eyes.

“So, we discussed why I'm out so early,” Blaine said, “what about you?”

Kurt shrugged, and went to collect the berries. “We have a lot to prepare for the feast tonight,” he said, “and I needed to gather some ingredients.” It was the last day of Lord Cooper's visit, and tonight there would be a last feast as a goodbye to him and his family, before they returned to their own castle tomorrow.

“What are those berries?” Blaine asked, looking at them curiously. “Dessert?”

Kurt laughed. “You'd hate them, they taste too bitter if eaten raw, and way too spicy.”

“Then what are they for?” Blaine asked.

That was so typical for him, always inquiring about things that nobody from the nobility really needed care about. But that was Blaine, friend of all servants, rescuer of kittens, and all in all nothing that Lord Anderson had wanted in a son. It was probably better that after his death, the title and the earldom of Dalton would go to Cooper, who was blessed with amazing looks, a horrible lack of common sense and fortunately a wife smart enough to deal with both of those.

“They're for the roast,” Kurt explained. “If you fry them with other herbs you get a paste that can be used to marinate the meat. It's... spicy, but with an earthy tone.”

“Is that what you used for the Summer Solstice feast?” Blaine asked.

Kurt felt the smile in his face widen. “That's the one,” he said, “I'm actually surprised you remembered.”

Blaine's eyes were gleaming at the memory. “Of course I remember,” he said, “it was my absolute favorite.”

Kurt looked down. Of course he knew this, which was the main reason why he had kept such close tabs on the Caverra trees, to get the berries at just the right time.

“The berries back then weren't ripe yet,” Kurt said, “but these are, the aroma should be more intense. I'm sure you'll like it even better.”

“I'm sure I will,” Blaine said. But there was something else in his eyes now. His expression got softer, his smile less giddy, more earnest.

Kurt was suddenly very aware of their surroundings – Lord Anderson's orchard, the hour after dawn, nobody but them around this early... Just him, lowly kitchen servant Kurt Hummel, and the Lord's younger son, charming as always without even trying.

“There's a lot to prepare,” Kurt said. His voice caught when he noticed how close they were standing.

But he had to be careful, he couldn't do anything stupid. He was very well aware of his weaknesses. He had read to many stories in his youth, had completely relished in the tales of knights and princesses, love conquering dragons and wizards, and of course, all odds. The romance of his novels filled him to the point where he sometimes confused reality with one of his stories. Years ago, in his home village of Lima, there had almost been a scandal, when he had thought a similar situation to this meant that handsome squire Finn might actually feel as he himself did. It was one part of a chain of events that had eventually led to Kurt leaving his home town and finding work at Earl Anderson's castle.

Blaine was more dangerous than Finn had ever been. Looking back, Kurt knew that any situations with Finn had been in his head. Blaine on the other hand... it was hard to explain the way he sometimes looked at Kurt, the conversations they had, just how close, kindred even, the young lord felt to him... They spent a lot of time together, and Kurt was sure that they were friends, that Blaine actually trusted him. There were things he would share with Kurt that he certainly didn't tell others – his fears and worries, his secret joys like singing, his hopes for helping those less fortunate than him and his better-intentioned-than-planned-out attempts of actually doing so... those were things that he would only trust Kurt with, never speak about with another person.

It was amazing to be trusted like this, better since Blaine was such a genuinely good person, despite his wealthy upbringing by one of the more snobby lords that Kurt had the uncertain privilege of meeting.

And it would be so easy to blur the lines, especially in a moment like this, to get closer, touch where he wasn't allowed, and reveal just how much more he wanted to be than he already was granted...

It could not happen.

Breaking eye contact, Kurt turned to his basket and started to sort the berries – anything that would keep his eyes off Blaine's.

“Kurt?”

There was uncertainty in Blaine's voice. How sad was it, that Kurt was already familiar with that particular tone? Was it really that often that Kurt turned away from him? And again, that treacherous voice at the back of his head was rejoicing. After all, wasn't that a good sign? It meant that Blaine noticed... that he cared.

But even if he did, it wouldn't change a thing. Seven months, he reminded himself. Only seven months.

“I have to return to the castle,” he said out loud. “There is much work to do for the feast, M'lord.”

“Kurt...” In his imagination, he could tell himself that Blaine sounded pleading, but he couldn't dwell on it.

“Good day, M'lord.”

 

* * *

 

Winter hit them hard this year. Kurt was as busy as every other servants keeping the fires burning, and also with brewing hot soups for everyone to eat. Winter Solstice was a small feast. There weren't many supplies to be had, and if it wasn't for the cooks brilliant talent, it would have been much sadder – although it It was sad enough as it was. Cooper hadn't come to visit his parents, instead spent the feast with his wife's family down south. Without him, there wasn't much conversation between the members of the noble family. Blaine and his father didn't have much to talk about, and the countess always kept to herself.

Kurt was still helping with the clean up after the feast, when he first heard the rumors. Brittany, one of the maids, was spreading them, told everybody who would listen that the “little lord” wasn't in his room.

Brittany was always talking nonsense about one thing or another, and usually Kurt didn't pay much attention to her. But it was about Blaine, and he couldn't help but worry. Blaine had looked very pale during the feast, hadn't even smiled at the dessert, even though it was his favorite. And he had been so quiet lately. Kurt couldn't help but notice, even with his continuing attempts to put some distance between them.

Maybe he had just gone for a walk and would be safely in his room by the time Kurt was done cleaning. But when he finally was free of the cook's inspection, Brittany had walked up to his rooms again, and still there was no sign of the young lord. It was enough for him to make his decision.

As he walked through the castle searching, Kurt wondered where Blaine could have gone. The castle gates were closed, and the guards wouldn't have let him out. Pondering, Kurt finally realized where he might be. Behind the chapel, there was a small garden, kept by the priest and the few monks living here. Blaine had called it the most quiet spot in the whole castle. Kurt himself didn't think much of prayer. All the rules of religion seemed to benefit those who already were in power. And if there actually was a god whose idea of justice meant that some people had all the power while most had to suffer through poverty and starvation, he wasn't sure that god really deserved worship. But of course the noble families were very religious – or at least religious enough to keep the clergy as allies.

Tonight, as every Solstice, the monks were locked up inside the chapel, praying all night for an early spring, enough rain, good harvests and for the king's peace to hold. Kurt supposed that it couldn't hurt, but he didn't care much for it either way. He was only glad that the monks would be gone so he could sneak into their garden.

As he expected, he found Blaine there. He was kneeling at the feet of the statue of an angel, his voice a soft mutter, accompanied by visible gusts of his breath. He was wrapped in a thick coat set with wolf fur, a gift his brother had given him after a journey to the High North. Kurt wondered whether it actually kept him warm. There were shivers running through his body, but he didn't seem to notice.

Kurt stepped closer. He wanted to talk to Blaine, to get him to come inside, but the young lord was clearly praying. It would be rude to interrupt, or probably even to listen. But as Kurt stepped closer, he noticed that he didn't even understand the prayer. Blaine was talking in Illyrian, the church's language. Kurt had never learned it, but that wasn't necessary to hear the tone of despair in his voice.

After surprisingly short time, Blaine turned around to look at him. Wrapped in his coat, he looked smaller. The air of confidence that was usually around him seemed to have dissipated. Kurt hated to see him like this, and despite his hope to keep some distance between them, he couldn't help but step closer and kneel down beside him.

“You shouldn't be here,” Kurt said softly.

“The monks won't mind,” Blaine replied.

Kurt examined him more closely in the light of their lanterns. He almost expected Blaine to have cried with how raw his voice had sounded, but Blaine's face was dry.

“I was talking about the cold,” Kurt said, following the temptation of touching his cheek. “You must be freezing. And are you not even wearing gloves?”

“Neither are you,” Blaine said.

“I've been looking for you,” Kurt said, “so now show some consideration and escort me inside. We can't have you catching pneumonia, you know?”

Blaine nodded, and allowed Kurt to put him back to his feet. Only when they were inside, Blaine seemed to notice that he was shivering and pulled the coat closer around himself. Kurt put an arm around him and pushed him along on the way to his room. There, he helped him into his warmest sleeping clothes and put him under the blankets. After a while, Blaine had stopped shaking. Kurt wondered how much time he had actually spent outside, praying for who knew what.

Kurt sighed, watching him. His own face was warm, though he wasn't quite sure whether that was from the warmth or leftover from helping the young lord change. This wasn't usually within his tasks, but he couldn't leave now, or just give him into the care of someone else. Blaine was upset about something, and from the way he was leaning towards Kurt, he craved company. Kurt knew he should be leaving, but he just couldn't, not when Blaine was looking at him like that, with so much uncertainty.

“Will you tell me?” Kurt asked.

For a while there was silence and he already expected that there would be no answer. But eventually, Blaine sat up against his headboard and spoke.

“My father talked to me. It's... my birthday is in a few months...”

“Four,” Kurt said automatically. He knew it by heart, of course.

“He wants me to marry,” Blaine said.

Kurt closed his eyes and tried not to let his feelings show. He knew Blaine would marry, knew that it would be soon. Maybe he and his bride would leave for another castle, rule over another village or fiefdom, like Cooper and his wife had, but most likely they would stay at Earl Anderson's castle in the beginning. They would live here, and Kurt would see them every day...

But this was how things should be. Lords married ladies, they didn't actually fall in love with kitchen servants.

“He hasn't decided yet, and then offers have to be made, but... he's thinking a southern lord's daughter. There have been some shifts in the alliances at court, and he doesn't have an in with the group closest to the king. Jane's family doesn't have the kind of influence he needs right now. I know Father is hoping for Lady Fabray or Lady Lopez... I hope it's not Lady Motta, she's... difficult.”

“Wasn't Duke Fabray here a year ago?” Kurt asked, trying not to think about Blaine with either of them. “Quinn was his daughter's name, wasn't it? She seemed... nice.” She had seemed a bit cold, and more than a little haughty, but Kurt remembered how she had thawed a bit in Blaine's company until they had laughed together. She had seemed lighter when she was laughing...

“It doesn't matter,” Blaine said, “that's not my problem. I don't care about who he wants me to marry, really. I'll be miserable either way.”

Kurt blinked. “You don't know that,” he said.

Blaine sighed, not meeting his eye. “I do, though. There isn't a lady in the world that I could be happy to wed.”

Kurt bit his lip. Stupid, irrational hope returned to to his chest. It could mean that his desires weren't completely misplaced this time. It would make sense, explain why Blaine never ogled the maids like the knights often did, it would explain the way Blaine sometimes looked at him, why he insisted on getting closer... but these things didn't happen in Kurt's life, he knew that. There had to be another reason.

“Is there someone you have your heart set on already?” Kurt said, mentally going through a list of the women living at the castle. A maid maybe? Somebody his position would never allow him to wed? Definitely somebody he couldn't reach. His sister by law, maybe, Lady Jane?

Blaine chuckled and shook his head as he looked at Kurt as if he was particularly slow. “I don't want to marry a woman, Kurt. I'm drawn to men.”

Kurt knew that he was staring, that it was unforgivably rude for a mere servant to look at a lord like this, but he couldn't stop. Two short sentences, that he really should have seen coming, had managed to pull the rug from under his feet.

Unable to formulate a response, he watched as Blaine's face started to fall.

“Kurt?” he said, his voice soft and uncertain.

Kurt opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say. He shuddered as he saw discomfort fall on Blaine's face, soon replaced by growing fear.

“Forget it,” he said quickly, “just... forget I said anything, please, don't tell anybody, let's just... let's forget it, please-”

“Blaine!” He quickly took Blaine's hand to stop his rambling. “It's okay. Sorry, it's just... it's fine. Me too.”

Blaine exhaled in relief, although he kept looking at Kurt as if to make sure. Only then, the last part seemed to register. “You?” he asked.

“Couldn't you tell?” Kurt replied, just so stopping himself from rolling his eyes.

“I hoped,” Blaine said softly. His eyes widened when he realized just what he had said. “Sorry, I'm... I really don't have any filter tonight, have I?”

Kurt gulped, and tried to be subtle as he withdrew his hand again. “It appears so,” he said. “Though you don't really have much of one on your best days.”

“You clearly haven't heard me talk to my father,” Blaine said, a soft chuckle in his voice. “I think it's because I was praying earlier. My parents didn't learn Illyrian that well, I can say almost anything when praying and nobody will understand. I forget to censure myself.”

“What were you praying for?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged. “Mercy, mostly. And luck. That it would take them longer to find somebody for me... that maybe they might even find somebody I could be... content with. Someone I at least can like.”

“Then you should hope for Lady Lopez,” Kurt said, happy with the path their conversation was taking. “Rumor has it – and by rumor I mean Brittany – that she has her own... differing interests. At least you could keep out of each others' way.”

Blaine shuddered. “You haven't met her, she's terrifying.”

“Either way, I don't understand why you're so upset,” Kurt said. “I get that it isn't what you want, that you'd rather be with someone you love – but you do realize that your chances wouldn't be good for that even if you could love women, right? You're a lord, you always knew you would have an arranged marriage. Whether you loved your bride was never going to be part of the equation.”

“That doesn't make it right – or fair,” Blaine said.

“People are starving this very moment, Blaine. Life isn't fair for anybody,” Kurt said.

Blaine frowned. “So because I was born into nobility, I have to accept everything that's decided for me because my life could be so much worse? Is that what you're saying? That I have no right to be unhappy with any of this?”

Kurt sighed. “I'm saying you have to consider the perspective,” he said. “Of course you're allowed to be unhappy. But even so... you do realize it won't be as bad for you, right? You'll be in a position of power, you can still live your life, all you have to do is consummate a marriage, and even that only once if you hate it so much. What about your bride to be? She won't get a choice either, and she's being passed into the power of a stranger who'll have absolute control over her. Don't you think it'll be much scarier for her?”

Blaine frowned at him. “I wouldn't control anyone,” he said. “I wouldn't hurt her. Don't you know me at all?”

“I do,” Kurt said, “but she doesn't.”

“I didn't think of it like that,” Blaine said.

“Don't obsess about it, please. You don't even know who she will be. Maybe it will work out.” Kurt took his hand again, and squeezed it for a moment. “You might find some way to live with each other, even if you don't love her.”

“If we don't love each other,” Blaine said.

Kurt looked at him softly. “In that case, as well. And hey, if you're too miserable, you can always run off with me, see the peasant life up close.”

Blaine laughed. “I've been told I wouldn't last a winter,” he said.

“True,” Kurt said in a matter-of-fact voice. “So it'll be marriage for you. And who knows, maybe things will end up completely different. Maybe your dreams come true and you do find the love of your life. Maybe your father needs an alliance with somebody who only has sons.”

“That is highly unlikely,” Blaine replied.

“Why not?” Kurt frowned. “I thought I heard about something like that. What do they call it, unions? When they let two lords or two ladies marry each other?”

“Yes, blessed unions – although it's not called marrying then, just entering a union,” Blaine said, “and the church still frowns upon them, or at least tries to turn a blind eye to them. They're rare, too, they only happen if a lord has too many children of one sex, and only if there's a really great need for an alliance. My father has never been on board with those unions, either. He doesn't believe an alliance like that would hold for long, not without children. I doubt he'd ever agree to one.”

Kurt shrugged. “You never know. Besides, your father has Cooper as an heir, and two grandsons already who could take over if need be. He'll feel even more secure if that child Lady Jane is carrying turns out to be another boy.”

Blaine laughed. “You don't know my father as well as I do. Trust me, it won't happen. Besides...” He looked down at their hands. “Who'd even want me?”

“I don't think you have to worry about that,” Kurt said. He wished he had kept silent, but it had just come out. This was dangerous territory, the one he had just thought he had gotten around...

But Blaine wasn't about to let it go again. He lifted their hands off his blanket, still intertwined and looked at them in contemplation. “Do you?”

Kurt froze. “I... I do think so,” he said, trying to avoid what the young lord was really asking, but he had run out of luck now.

“Kurt – do you want me?” Blaine was looking at his eyes now, searching and hopeful.

Kurt felt hyper aware of every sensation, how Blaine's warming skin felt against his own, the roughness on his fingers, the way the hair at the back of his own neck stood up, the movement of air as his breath left his open mouth. So easy... just lean in... how much more of an invitation could he wish for?

“No,” he said and forced himself not to look down, to look Blaine right in the eye so there would be no doubt about his sincerity in dealing the blow. “I'm sorry, I don't.”

It's weird how not a muscle twitched on Blaine's face, and yet he looked completely different. A light seemed to disappear in his eyes, that shimmer of hope he had seen before. Kurt hated that he had to do this, but it was better this way.

“I do care about you,” Kurt continued, trying to soften the blow without taking away from it, “you're very kind, and don't ever doubt that you're beautiful. I just don't feel that way about you. I'm sorry.”

Blaine broke the eye contact with a blink, and it felt as if a spell had broken. He shook his head and Kurt could see the flush of embarrassment appearing in his face.

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's... forget I said anything. It's fine.”

When he looked at Kurt again, a smile had returned to his face, although it looked more like a grimace. With time it would become more convincing, but Kurt realized that he should keep his distance until that was the case.

“It's been long day, M'lord,” he said, trying to sound professional but not cold. “You should rest.”

“Yes, thank you,” Blaine said. His yawn looked about as fake as his smile had, but he clearly was grateful for the escape route.

“Have a good night,” Kurt said and bowed his head before he extinguished the lights and left the room. Only when he was outside in the corridor, he allowed himself to lean against the wall.

He should have become an actor. Surely not even in the ancient Illyrian theaters had there ever been a better performance than this. But on his own, he allowed himself to breathe deeply, trying to wrap his head around what Blaine had said.

Blaine wanted him – Kurt, a mere kitchen servant. And the lord's son, who if he ever actually tried could probably have cohorts of lovers from whatever gender he preferred, wanted him.

It would have been so easy to stay, to kiss the other boy, climb into that soft, warm bed and hold him, discover him, be held and caressed in return... One word was all it would have taken...

He couldn't let it happen. Kurt sighed and tried to shake it off. He hadn't expected Blaine to actually want him, but every other reason for why he had chosen to keep his feelings to himself still applied. Pursuing anything beyond friendship with the young lord would inevitably lead to heart break. Kurt could deal with unrequited love – he'd been there, he knew he could survive it. But even if Blaine felt the same for him, it couldn't last. Blaine was part of the nobility. He would marry a lady, or possibly, unlikely as it was, a lord. All Kurt could hope for, and that was his best case scenario, was to be kept as a shameful secret, something hidden away for whenever Blaine got bored or dissatisfied with his official life. He knew that he wasn't on the same level as the nobility, but he did have pride. He couldn't be with Blaine and hold on to that

If it was pride or love, it would have been an easy choice. But love wasn't an option, just being a convenient release. And if that was the choice, then Kurt would go for self respect without hesitation.

Or at least that was the theory. Then why was it so hard to step away from Blaine's door? Why did he feel such a pull to turn around, sneak back into his room and explain himself better?

The cold truth was that he shouldn't. Steeling his heart, Kurt pushed himself off the wall and started to walk to the servants' quarters. Blaine was just a dream, and that was all Kurt could allow himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this chapter. I had it finished about a week ago - and then I reread it and completely hated it, deleted it, and started writing a completely different one. And I didn't even get to half the things I had planned to actually put into this chapter, so those were pushed back a chapter. Ah well, so it goes.

* * *

Kurt took great care the next days to take tasks that would keep his presence around the noble family to a minimum. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw Blaine now, especially not if they ended up alone. Would it be awkward? Or strange? Would Blaine be angry with him?

Especially the last question should be a reasonable concern. After all, how often did it happen that a noble took a liking to a commoner, and then sought revenge after being rejected? But Kurt wasn't worried about that – no matter how upset Blaine might be, he wouldn't lash out because of it. There was no fear of retribution. What Kurt was really worried about was if he could stay strong and reasonable in the face of Blaine being upset or hurt.

He tried so hard to keep to himself, that it took him days to even realize that something was wrong. It was Brittany, first source of all gossip in the castle, who finally got through to him. Kurt was just cleaning the pots in the evening. It was one of his favorite tasks. Hardly any servants were still in the kitchen at this time and he could relax, have some time for himself. Well, and sometimes Blaine had come down to spend some time with him and chat. Of course, it hadn't happened in the last few days, but it was still nice to have some time to unwind. Or at least it was nice, until he noticed that Brittany had come in and was now throwing diverse ingredients together into a pan, right over the fire.

“Brittany, what are you doing?” he asked, coming closer. Brittany wasn't actually allowed to handle the food, her tasks were more in the area of cleaning. She had a special way to look at the world, and Shannon, the cook, didn't trust her not to accidentally poison somebody.

“I'm trying a miracle cure,” Brittany explained, “you can make tea to make people stop coughing, but I'd rather have a stew than drink tea. So I'm making herbal stew.”

Kurt frowned as he looked into her pan. There were indeed herbs, combined with potatoes, the cut-offs from this evening's roast, some carrots, sugar, cinnamon, bay leaves, cracked eggs with pieces of their shells, and some green things that Kurt couldn't quite identify.

“Where did you get that recipe?” Kurt asked skeptically.

“I thought of it myself,” Brittany said, “besides, tea isn't very nourishing, and Shannon said that the little lord hasn't eaten in days.”

Kurt froze. “Is something the matter with Blaine?” he asked.

Brittany looked at him in surprise. “The little lord can't eat because he's coughing all the time,” she said, “and he has ever since the solstice. I think it's the quail from the feast, he probably got some of it into his lungs and now it's trying to fly out again.”

“That's not how it works, Brittany,” Kurt said automatically.

“That's what Shannon said, but I think she just doesn't want to admit it because she cooked the quails. You see, your lungs can't digest food, that's why it doesn't just go away.”

“And what does Shannon think it is?” Kurt asked.

“She says it's a cold, or maybe a pneumonia, or possibly the red cough. It's not true though, it's the quail.”

“And you think this stew is going to help?”

“I put eggs in it, so the quail will maybe try to go after them to save them,” Brittany said. “Or maybe I should put in some worms? Maybe the quail is hungry and will try to get them?”

Kurt knew he was staring at her, as he was trying to figure out just how her mind had come to this conclusion, but then he shook his head and gave up.

“Brittany, I don't think it's going to work,” he said, trying to sound gentle.

“Why wouldn't it?”

He knew her well enough to not argue with her about her ideas. “I think if the quail sees him eating the eggs, it'll be too depressed and just dig deeper into his lung.”

Brittany's eyes widened. “I didn't think of that,” she said. “But what else can we do to help him? The coughing sounds really bad, and I think he's miserable.”

Kurt took the pan off the fire and started to think. “I'll make him a soup,” he said. “I learned a good recipe from my mother.”

“Will it help with the quail?” Brittany asked.

Kurt shrugged. “Maybe it's thirsty,” he said.

It seemed enough for Brittany, who soon was off to hopefully do whatever she was actually supposed to do, and left him alone in the kitchen. He quickly threw the contents of her pan away and got a new pot where he started making a soup. It was good to have something easy to do, as he tried to collect his thoughts.

He wasn't exactly surprised that Blaine was sick, not with how long he must have stayed outside after the Solstice feast. It was just a bit disconcerting for Kurt that he hadn't found out for days. It probably wasn't the red cough, no matter what Shannon said. She always thought everything was the red cough since the steward had died of it. If Blaine was seriously ill, the rumors would have spread much further. There was probably not too much reason to worry about Blaine. While he couldn't expect much care from his parents, the servants liked him enough to make sure he wouldn't need anything. But before, Kurt had always been there to take care of him. Now he hadn't even noticed it for days.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be between them. Even if it was going to be awkward after the Solstice, Kurt hadn't wanted to lose the connection between them. Well, this was going to stop now – or at least once the soup was ready.

 

* * *

 

Blaine's room was warm. Probably the countess had insisted on heating it as well as possible, seeing warmth as the ultimate cure for colds. Blaine was lying in his bed, but only his head and arms peeked out under a veritable mountain of blankets and furs. There was a red flush on his cheeks, and he was breathing heavily, his eyes screwed shut. Kurt had just stepped into the room, when Blaine started to cough, his body almost convulsing under the force of it. Kurt came closer and put the tray with soup onto the bedside table.

When the coughing stopped, Blaine looked up at him. Up close, Kurt could see the sweat gathering on his forehead, his dry and cracked lips, and his glazed eyes – but even then, the moment he saw Kurt, he started to smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Whatever do I have to hear about you, M'lord?” Kurt said. “Brittany seems to think there's a bird in your lungs.”

Confusion spread on Blaine's face as he listened to the sentence. Kurt felt pity for him. It was hard enough to understand Brittany's logic on a good day, but when he was sick it had to be so much more confusing.

“It's just Brittany,” Kurt said, “here, let me feel your forehead.”

Blaine nodded and just stayed where he was, clearly trusting Kurt to do whatever he wanted. Kurt felt a lump in his throat. Carefully, he let his hand rest on Blaine's forehead, frowning at how warm it was under his touch. He clucked his tongue, not happy with what he felt.

“It really got you, didn't it?” he asked softly.

Blaine nodded, but before he could say anything, he was coughing again.

“Poor thing,” Kurt said. “Here, I brought you some soup, maybe it will help. Brittany says you haven't eaten much.”

“I'm not hungry,” Blaine said. It would have sounded more believable if his stomach didn't just start growling at that moment.

“Be reasonable,” Kurt said, trying to sound strict. It wasn't easy, given how clearly miserable the young lord looked.

Blaine sighed, but allowed Kurt to maneuver him into a sitting position.

In a way, it was a relief. For days, Kurt had worried that things would be awkward between them, or maybe there would be lingering hurt or bitterness about his rejection. But this wasn't awkward. This was a familiar situation, him taking care of Blaine, and maybe it would help them go back to how things had been before. With that hope, he put the spoon into Blaine's hand and pushed him to eat.

“It's good,” Blaine said hoarsely, as he tried the first sip of the soup.

Kurt gave him a short smile. “I'm glad,” he said. For a while, he watched Blaine eat, only in small sips, and not even half the bowl, but at least he was taking in some food now.

“Sorry,” Blaine said, when he couldn't eat any more.

“It's fine,” Kurt said, “I'm just relieved you've eaten anything at all. Brittany had me worried about you.”

“I'm not that sick,” Blaine said, “I'll be fine in a few days.”

“That's good,” Kurt said, “and maybe this will help you remember not to stay outside in this weather for hours.”

It was probably not the right thing to say, as Blaine dropped his gaze immediately to not look at him. Kurt felt a stab. It hadn't been necessary to bring up the night of the Solstice – and his rejection – again, it was just pointlessly hurtful. But then Blaine looked back up at him, an uncertain look on his face.

“Kurt? Are we okay? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I... I don't want things to be strange.”

Kurt hesitated for a moment, but then he sat down on the bedside and took Blaine's hand in his. “They won't be,” he said. “We're okay, and nothing will change. I want us to be okay.”

Blaine smiled, and tonight it was genuine. “Me too,” he said, before another fit of coughing shook his body.

“How can you even sleep with that?” Kurt wondered.

“I can't. Not well at least,” Blaine admitted.

“Do you want me to stay?” Kurt regretted the question as soon as it had come out. As if the young lord really needed to deal with mixed signals on top of everything else.

Blaine was looking up at him in surprise, but eventually he shook his head. “No, but thank you. For the soup as well. You really didn't have to.”

Kurt shrugged, not sure if he should be relieved or disappointed about this answer. “I wanted to do something nice for you. And trust me, it's better than what Brittany had planned for you.”

Blaine chuckled, but fell right back into a coughing attack. Kurt winced at the sound, but he knew there wasn't much he could do to help.

He still waited until Blaine was lying back against his pillow, exhausted from the onslaught.

“Should I let you try to get some rest, then?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine nodded, maybe still too weak to give a verbal answer. Kurt hesitated, though. It felt wrong to leave him alone, poor thing, so sick and looking so small under all those blankets... But there wasn't much Kurt could do for him. He tried to tell himself that it was the best he could do to let Blaine get some rest, and be grateful that things weren't going to be weird between them.

 

* * *

 

As long as the winter had ruled in the old year, as long did it take for spring to really set in. Fortunately, Blaine's health returned faster than the warmth did, and even before the snow had completely thawed, he was back on his feet, not even a hint of paleness as a reminder of his illness. And to his relief, Kurt found that things actually didn't become awkward between them. Blaine seemed to be completely over his rejection. As before, he spent more time with the servants than Earl Anderson would have been comfortable with, if he had taken time to notice. He talked to Kurt like before, visited him in the kitchen, and joked with him, completely at ease. So maybe Kurt noticed that Blaine had become less tactile, but he tried to convince himself this was what he had wanted. It was a good thing to remove the temptation.

He figured he was still allowed to miss it.

But as the spring finally set in, there was a shift of moods in the castle. Most people were happier in the sun, and this year in particular, the whole castle was buzzing in anticipation. Announcements and invitations had been sent to the crown prince's wedding, and a whole party would travel south to attend the festivities. Earl Anderson seemed especially content, Kurt could swear he even saw him smile once.

But Blaine's mood darkened with the rising temperatures. He became withdrawn again, as he had before the Solstice, got lost in his thoughts and smiled less. Of course, as the year progressed, his inevitable betrothal was drawing closer, and after his recovery it was bound to shift right back into focus for him. For Kurt, it was a welcome reminder on why he couldn't allow himself to wish for more.

“You should be happy, really,” Kurt said one evening in the kitchen, when Blaine had come to visit him again. Kurt was busy scrubbing the pans, and Blaine was sitting beside him, after his usual offer of help had been declined. “I've never been to the capital, and to go there for a royal wedding... I'm kind of jealous.”

“It's not as great as you think it is,” Blaine said with a shrug. “And the royal festivities are all very overwhelming. We had to be present for the naming ceremony of the youngest prince. I swear, there was gold and silk everywhere. And the food was so much... Honestly, they could have fed the whole capital for three days from it.”

“Didn't they?” Kurt asked. “I thought I heard the leftovers were given to the poor.”

“Some of it,” Blaine said, “but there were too many things that didn't keep for more than a day, and after the feast they were thrown away. I guess eventually that too landed with some beggars, but I doubt they were too happy about it.”

“Still, I wish I could see it once.”

“Me too, that is so weird!” They looked up, as another voice interrupted their conversation. Brittany had come to them and was now sitting down cross-legged in front of them. “I wish that too sometimes. I want to see something once, but then I blink, and suddenly I see it for the second time. And then I blink again, and then it's the third time I see it. That makes first impression really, really short. Do you think there are people who don't blink?”

All Kurt knew was, that Blaine was blinking in confusion a lot right now, as he often did around Brittany.

“Interesting concept, but I wouldn't mind to see the capital more than once,” Kurt said. “It's more about seeing it at all.”

Now Brittany looked confused. “Why wouldn't you see it? Are you planning on wearing a blindfold all the time we're there? Did you lose a bet?”

“What are you talking about? I'm not going to the capital,” Kurt said.

“But Shannon said we're going,” Brittany insisted. “For the wedding. It's custom for every lord invited to provide some specialty from their home for the celebration as a tribute, and we're going to go with the Earl and make some... pudding? Or cake? I don't remember. But she specifically said you would come to make it.”

It was Kurt's turn to be confused now. “Why didn't she tell me?”

Brittany frowned. “Maybe I was supposed to tell you?” she said. “I forgot, I was just so happy. A lot of noble families are going to be there, I'm so looking forward to it. Do you think Santana will be there?” The last part was directed at Blaine.

“You know Lady Lopez?” he asked.

“Of course, we met when her family was traveling north for that negotiation a year ago,” Brittany said. “She was really nice to me.”

“Must have been only to you,” Blaine said, shuddering at what Kurt assumed was the memory of Lady Lopez. It made him really curious about her, and a bit annoyed that he had accompanied Shannon on an errand during the short time of her stay.

“I'm hoping to see her again, anyway,” Brittany said. “Did you know, she even wanted to ask if I could start working at their estate, so we could spend more time together? But I rather stayed here. You don't find any unicorns that far south.”

“Unicorns?” Blaine asked. “Brittany... unicorns don't really-”

“I'm sure they're glad you stayed for them,” Kurt interrupted him. No discussions with Brittany, that was one of his most important rules. “Don't you have some cleaning to do, though?”

“I got bored with it,” Brittany said. Under Kurt's strict look, she shrugged. “I could go back to it?”

“You do that,” Kurt said, “we don't want you to get into trouble and not be allowed to come to the capital with us.”

Brittany's eyes widened in fear and she immediately turned around and left to do whatever she had neglected to do before.

“I'm sorry for her,” Kurt said to Blaine, who was still looking after her in confusion. “She can be... complicated.”

“I know,” Blaine said, “I guess I shouldn't be surprised about it anymore, but... she still manages it.”

“It's a very rare, very specific talent of hers,” Kurt said. “I find it easier to just go along with it.”

“You might have a point there,” Blaine said. Now that the distraction of Brittany had passed, his former melancholy returned. But now, Kurt had an idea just what the reason of it was.

“So I guess Lady Lopez is going to be there,” he said carefully.

Blaine sighed. “And Lady Fabray, Lady Motta, Lady Corazon... Almost every daughter of an influential lord that my father has considered as my bride. And of course lots of others he hasn't considered.”

“I assume that's why you're not looking forward to the trip.”

“He's planning to close the deal over the festivities,” Blaine said, “although I know that his selection has gone down a bit. Lady Fabray and Lady Lopez are the ones he's hoping for most. If that doesn't work out, he has his eyes set on Lady Motta – they have less influence, but make it up with gold. Lord St. James has lots of influence, and rumor has it he even has a daughter, although the family only ever presents their eldest son. I don't know, Father is really hoping for Lady Fabray or Lady Lopez. I'm not sure how he'll react if those don't work out.”

“How good are the chances for those matches to work?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged. “He wouldn't share much about that with me,” he said, “so I have no idea. All he told me was which girls I should spend lots of time with while we were at the capital.” He laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it. “Charm them, that's what I should do. Charm all the girls he might want to match me with, and then he picks which he likes best. Or takes whatever he can get, I don't know. It just feels...” He sighed again. “It's not what I want. I can't imagine anyone wanting that.”

“That's how it works, Blaine,” Kurt said softly. “Nobody really gets what they want.”

“My father does,” Blaine replied. “Cooper did. It does work for some, doesn't it?”

“For very few, very lucky people,” Kurt admitted. “But not for most.”

A soft frown appeared on Blaine's face as he looked to Kurt. “What do _you_ want?”

Kurt blinked. This was a loaded question, and one he didn't have an easy or quick answer to. What he wanted... He thought about acceptance – real, not the kind where he had to hide parts of himself. He thought about going back home to his family, without embarrassment within his family, and without being frowned at by people in his village. He thought about love, and fairy tales and how he wished it could really be this easy. And Blaine. It was impossible not to think about Blaine.

None of this was ever going to happen, and he couldn't put it into words, either. But he couldn't not give Blaine an answer.

“I want to be happy,” Kurt said. “Although I haven't figured out just what that means yet.”

 Blaine looked at him with sadness, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that made Kurt's heart clench. “You should be. Happy.”

Kurt sighed. “It's not that easy. And you can't find something if you don't even know what it is you're looking for.”

“I still hope you'll find it,” Blaine said softly. All the time, he didn't break the eye contact between them.

Kurt felt warmth spread through his whole body. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't.

“What do _you_ want?” he managed to whisper.

Blaine blinked, as if the question surprised him.

“There must be something you want,” Kurt said, unable to stop himself. He shouldn't be asking this, was almost afraid of what the answer would be. At the Solstice, Blaine had been clear enough about at least one thing he wanted.

But instead of answering directly, Blaine hesitated and then looked away. “It's funny,” he said, his voice a bit higher than usual. “I spend so much time thinking about having to do things I don't want to... I'm not even sure what it is that I do want.”

“I think you are,” Kurt said. “You can tell me.” He tried to smile to make things less loaded. “I won't laugh.”

Blaine looked up again. “Love,” he said eventually, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I'd really like to have love.”

Without thinking, Kurt took Blaine's hand into his. “That's not a stupid thing to want,” he said softly. “Actually, it's a really good thing.”

“But nothing I could expect from life,” Blaine said, his eyes never leaving their hands.

“As I said, people don't get what they want,” Kurt said. “We just have to make the best of the chances we get.” He felt like a hypocrite for those words. He knew the concept of Carpe Diem, to take any opportunity that presented itself. It had just never been him. If he couldn't have exactly what he wanted, he'd rather forget it completely than settle for anything less.

Blaine looked up from their hands and into Kurt's eyes as if he could see right through those words. But instead of commenting on it, he just smiled.

“It sounds nice,” he said.

Kurt returned the smile, before he withdrew his hand. “I still have to work, though, and you're distracting me.”

Blaine shook his head. “I would hate to get in the way of your work,” he said and stood up gracefully. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“I'm sure you will,” Kurt replied. He kept his smile until Blaine had left the kitchen before he slumped against the wall. He had tried to avoid moments like this, but it was so hard.

What did he want?

At this moment, all he had wanted was to tell Blaine that he too wanted love, that he wanted to be the one Blaine loved, and wished he could have just said yes. But he had to be strong. One of them had to be, one of them had to be realistic. In the end, anything else would just hurt more in the long run – maybe even both of them.

 

* * *

 

 The travel to the capital had been way too long, but as they passed through the city gates, Kurt knew that it had been worth it. The streets were polished, the houses rich, and there were flowers everywhere. Kurt spent the first few hours after they were shown their accommodations scouting out the area of the city they stayed in, drinking in the sights and sounds of it, the smells from the street vendors' stands, and all the different people in their elaborate, southern clothing. It was amazing and overwhelming, more than he could have ever imagined.

He only saw Blaine in the evening as he helped unpack the noble family's luggage, and even then he couldn't stop talking about all the things he had seen. Blaine just let him ramble on, sitting on his bed with a happy, indulgent smile on his face, but eventually he started laughing.

“What's so funny about this?” Kurt asked, slightly irritated. “I get that this is probably nothing out of the ordinary for you, but to me this is really special!”

“I do get that,” Blaine said, raising his hands to calm him down. “It's just, you don't have a very realistic view of this place. Trust me, I've been here before on lesser occasions. What you see now? It's not the real thing. Usually, it's so much dirtier, there are lots of poor people around. But for an event like a royal wedding, everything has to look perfect, so everything that isn't? Well, that gets hidden away. You wouldn't want to offend the guests with the real smell of the capital, for a start.”  
  
Kurt deflated a bit. “It's just a show?” he asked.

Blaine nodded, although his smile diminished a bit. “Everything about this place is, if you get down to it.”

Kurt sighed. “I guess it would have been too amazing,” he admitted. “It was just...”

“Like a fairy tale?” Blaine asked.

It was exactly what Kurt had wanted to say. He shouldn't be surprised about it, after all he knew that Blaine liked those stories as well.

“Just like one,” Kurt said softly.

And again, Blaine was looking at him like that – as if Kurt's dreams had any chance of coming true, as if there was nothing easier in the world than to just give in, allow himself a moment of weakness... and he couldn't, he just couldn't.

With more strength than he thought he possessed, Kurt broke the eye contact between them.

“So what have you been up to today?” he asked, trying his best to sound light.

Blaine hesitated, and for a moment he looked almost upset, but then the smile returned to his face, and Kurt could almost believe that it was real.

“I spent the day with Cooper,” he said. “We've mostly been catching up, I haven't seen him in months. We also ran into Lady Tina and some of her friends. They visit the capital more often, so they showed us around a bit.”

“Lady Tina?” Kurt asked. The fondness in Blaine's voice had surprised him, and he hated that he actually felt upset about it. “Why, I believe that is the first time you talked about one of the young ladies without sounding as if you wanted to run away.”

Blaine laughed. “She's already married, Kurt. I don't think my father considers her. I believe Lord Chang is very happy about his son's marriage to her.”

“Oh.” Kurt felt a bit embarrassed and annoyed about how little he knew about the nobility. “So you haven't met any potential brides yet?”

“Not yet,” Blaine said, “although my father has some plans for dinner. Chances are I'll see some of them then.”

“Who are you having dinner with?” Kurt asked.

“I told you about that group of nobles that are currently very close to the throne, right?” Blaine asked. “We're having dinner with some of them, and their families.”

“What is the story behind that, anyway?” Kurt asked.

Blaine sighed. “There are some tensions between the south and the north at the moment. Dalton is in a complicated position. We're officially part of the south, but we're near the border to the north and it's never been exactly clear where we actually belong. In case of a conflict, my father definitely wants to stand with the south, but at the moment he doesn't have any close connection to those who have the king's ear. But they do consider an alliance with him, mostly as a sort of watch against the northern territories. So he wants me to marry one of their daughters.”

“And that's why he's so focused on Lady Fabray or Lady Lopez,” Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. “Exactly, and that also means-”

The door opened, and Blaine immediately stopped talking. But it was only Brittany who danced inside.

“Your father is looking for you, Mylord!” she said, a grin splitting her face. “You're going to dinner!”

Blaine sighed. “Well, there we go,” he said. He looked back to Kurt one more time. “Wish me luck?”

Kurt froze for a second, long enough for Blaine to look at him in confusion, a frown forming on his face. “Good luck,” he eventually managed, combined with a smile he knew couldn't even look close to sincere. How could he wish Blaine good luck in this? On the other hand, how selfish was it not to?

Blaine smiled, although there was an edge to it that Kurt hated. “I'll see you later,” he said softly.

Kurt nodded, not trusting his voice to speak until Blaine had left the room. Brittany followed after, clearly hoping to get along and have a chance to see Lady Santana. With a sigh, Kurt walked to the window and looked outside. The capital was still gorgeous, gleaming and shining, just... beautiful. He had wanted to come here, had looked forward to this trip. But the truth was, when they left this place, Blaine would be engaged. By the end of the year he would be married.

Kurt turned from the window. So everything was a show at the capital? Well, he could give a show as well. If he had to give a show of being a happy, supportive friend as he watched Blaine getting engaged and married to one of those ladies, then he would play the hell out that role.

And with a little luck, he might even convince himself.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dusk was already setting in, as their carriage made its way through the streets of the capital. Blaine was grateful that the curtains on his side were tied back. It wasn't a long ride, but he liked the opportunity to see what was happening in the streets. His mother usually always insisted on closed curtains, as she saw no need for the peasants to see the nobility. Blaine usually followed her instructions, even though he didn't see the point of hiding himself from people. It was just easier than to start a discussion with his mother. But tonight the countess had stayed back at the keep to make sure that the servants set everything up the right way. Cooper was invited too, but would meet them there. And so it was only Blaine and his father who were taking the carriage to the keep, where the most influential lords resided, and where they would share dinner.

Earl Anderson wasn't a talkative man. He spoke when it was necessary and then took great care to be as precise as possible. He wouldn't even think of something as trivial as small talk. His silence was just another reason Blaine was glad he had the distraction of the capital right outside the carriage window.

Now, at the end of the day, the streets were looking dirtier than when they had come in, but Blaine knew that during the night they would be cleaned up again to welcome the guests coming into the capital tomorrow. It was an elaborate show, and one most of the guests could just see through. Blaine never really understood why it was necessary then. But that was part of it, the royal family just had to impress. It had definitely worked on Kurt.

Kurt...

He had been really amazed by the capital, at least until Blaine had to spoil it for him. But then again, Kurt disliked deception, and he would have noticed sooner or later. It would have been nice, though, to be able to show him something genuine at least.

It shouldn't matter. Blaine should be focusing on politics, study with his father to become a useful ally, and right now he should find out anything he could about how things stood politically. He should meet his peers, other young nobles, and find out what they knew, probably “charm” the ladies who were potential matches. If he was half the son his father had wanted, he probably would be doing all that.

Instead, he tried to stay as far away from the ladies as possible, found himself mostly bored or annoyed by his peers, and would prefer spending his time with one of the kitchen servants.

Blaine hated the idea of being a disappointment to his family. But the truth was, he knew how to change that. He couldn't be the perfect son, but he could do better in his father's eyes. If he put effort into it, he could probably make the earl proud, at least more than he was now. It would only require changing everything, even the things he liked about himself.

And those were things that others liked about him, too. Cooper liked him. His mother did, even if she was too careful about her position to show much affection. The servants liked him, and most guests they had were charmed by him as well.

Kurt liked him.

Even the thought was enough to make a smile appear on Blaine's face. Kurt might call him ridiculous, or foolish, or impossible on occasion, but no matter what words he used, his tone was affectionate, and there was warmth in his eyes. In fact, Blaine figured it was just a sign of how close they were that Kurt had no problem with reprimanding Blaine whenever he thought it necessary. Most servants didn't dare to criticize the nobles they worked for out of fear of punishment. But Kurt trusted him enough to joke with him, to criticize him, to be honest with him.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't have any friends his age. He had some contact with his peers, although he didn't see that much of them due to Dalton's isolated position. But it wasn't until he had met Kurt that he realized how fake those friendships were. With his peers, it was always about impressing each other, playing up one's own importance and build alliances between and against each other – an imitation of the way their parents vied for the king's favor.

But Kurt didn't play games. When Blaine told him a secret, he kept it to himself, never used it as a weapon. And there were so many things Kurt knew that nobody could ever find out about. If he wanted to, Kurt could blackmail him for everything. But he never would, because Blaine could trust him – and because Kurt liked him.

A sigh escaped Blaine's lips. Kurt liked him, but unfortunately not the way Blaine wanted him to. It was a pity, really. They got along so well, they trusted each other, and Kurt was simply amazing – gorgeous and smart, so perceptive and grounded in reality, where Blaine's own head was in the clouds most of the time...

It would be so easy to fall in love with him.

Blaine had dreamed of being in love since he was a child, had actually believed it could happen once Cooper got married and turned out to be so happy. At first, he had no clear vision of how that person he would love would be – back then, he had even thought it would be a girl. Once he realized that he preferred men, he had sometimes even dared to dream of entering a union – of meeting another young noble like himself, who would at first be shy and uncertain around Blaine, but who with time would grow bolder, who Blaine could confide in and be happy with. As he grew older, he had realized this would never happen. He had realized that he would marry some girl his father chose, and even if he found someone to fall in love with, it couldn't be more than a secret affair.

Now, if he thought about falling in love, the only face he could imagine was Kurt. He didn't think he was in love – but it would be so easy.

But Kurt didn't see him that way. There was some interest, it was clear from the way Kurt looked at him, but Kurt had also made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to pursue that.

Blaine tried to tell himself it was for the better. He wasn't even sure what exactly he felt for Kurt. If Kurt encouraged him somehow, he might very well fall in love, and in a way that had nothing in common with the fantasies of love he used to have. Even if they did fall in love with each other – what kind of love would that be? One they had to hide every day?

It was just a stupid, childish fantasy anyway. Kurt was right, love didn't enter into the equation when it came to the weddings of the nobility. Maybe it was time that he started to face reality, and what it had in store for him.

As if on cue, his father cleared his throat. “Now, boy, for this dinner, there are a few things I want you to pay attention to.”

Blaine turned away from the window to face his father. “I'm listening.”

* * *

Less than two hours later, Blaine found himself looking for comfort in his goblet. It was just diluted wine, and clearly didn't help much in relieving his current situation. Dinner had been nice enough, but after that, different groups had formed. The ladies were huddled together, talking about things that seemed of little concern to Blaine – gossip mostly, about the last and the coming matches. The lords were still sitting at the main table, and had clearly started to discuss politics. Blaine wasn't sure whether he should envy Cooper for being allowed into those discussions, but if he read his brother's exasperated and bored looks right, he probably shouldn't.

Blaine himself was seated at a table with the other young nobles who weren't considered politically savvy or interested enough to take part in the big discussions. Or maybe it was also because at least some of them were the object of discussion.

Blaine took another sip of wine and looked at the young people around him. There were, as expected, the Ladies Fabray and Lopez. They were completely different from each other, although both were lovely – even Blaine could admit that. Quinn Fabray was like a winter morning, pale with blond hair and clear blue eyes, soft skin and a bell like voice. Santana Lopez was from further south, her skin tan and her hair as shining black as her eyes.

They were lovely to look at – Blaine just wasn't so sure about their personalities. Quinn was withdrawn and cool, Santana fiery and sarcastic. It wasn't easy to talk to either of them, although Blaine had a preference for Quinn. At least she stayed pleasant in her replies, even though he sometimes wondered whether she was inwardly making fun of him. Santana on the other hand had always had a temper, but tonight she was downright unpleasant.

Lady Sugar Motta was pretty as well, but she just would not shut up. She kept talking and talking about her father's businesses and about all the things he bought her. It took only a few minutes until most of the other occupants of the table just ignored her chatter, only nodding from time to time so she wouldn't throw a tantrum. Blaine really pitied Lord Abrams' son who was sitting next to her and had a much harder time ignoring her than anyone else had.

Those were the three ladies Blaine had been told to “charm”, but they weren't the only people at the table. There were also a few girls already engaged, and also of course the sons. It would have been nice if Lady Tina and her husband, Lord Mike, had been here as well, but their families weren't part of the inner circle.

“So, Blanderson, rumor has it you'll be on the meat market soon.”

To his own relief, Blaine managed not to flinch at the sound of Santana's drawl. “Rumor travels fast,” he said instead with a small shrug.

“I hadn't heard about that!” Sugar exclaimed. “But it makes sense that I didn't know, Dayton is sooo far north, I sometimes even forget it's part of the kingdom, it's almost like it's in the north, isn't it?”

Quinn threw an annoyed look at her. “It's called Dalton, and all the north is part of the kingdom,” she said.

“It is?” Sugar asked.

Quinn rolled her eyes and looked back to Blaine. “It's actually been quite the talk down south, you know? Everyone is waiting for the match your father is going to make for you.”

“I didn't think people would even remember us,” Blaine said with a meaningful look to Sugar.

“Well, with the way things are between us and the north at the moment, people would really like to know what side Dalton is on,” Santana said. “And your marriage is probably the best indicator on where your family's standing. Unless they have too much trouble to find anyone for you and your father has to take whatever he can get...”

Blaine bristled at the way she talked to him, but before he could reply to her, Quinn spoke up.

“I don't see potential husbands running down your door, Santana,” she said, the icy look in her eyes betraying the sweet tone of her voice.

“Well, I intend to keep it that way,” Santana replied, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“And I'm sure you will succeed,” Quinn said.

Blaine looked between them, unsure what to say. They had been friends since he knew them, and although there had always been a rivalry, there was now a sharp tone between them that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen them together.

“So, Blaine,” Quinn said, her voice now sweeter than before, “do you have any idea who your father is considering?” She looked at the table where the lords were sitting, their fathers especially talking in quiet voices.

Blaine frowned. He didn't think it would be appropriate to tell them that they were on the list of potential candidates. “I do know he's definitely looking for a southern match,” he said instead, and lifted his goblet for a toast.

“Well, who knows then,” Quinn said, giving him a radiant smile. “Maybe you're already having dinner with your future bride.”

Blaine almost choked on the diluted wine. “It might be,” he said.

Quinn was still smiling, and as she lifted her own goblet with water to her lips, he could have sworn she had winked at him.

“Well, wouldn't the two of you make a lovely couple?” Santana asked. She was rolling her eyes and downed the contents of her goblet in one gulp. Unlike most of the other young nobles at the table, she had opted for undiluted wine, and wasn't too careful with it. “I heard Smythe is pushing for that match.”

Blaine perked up at the mention of that name. That was one noble family he hadn't encountered yet. He knew that Lord Smythe was one of the most trusted advisers of the king. He also knew that Lord Smythe had three sons and two daughters, all of them already well married off, except for the youngest son, who must have some reputation – at least Earl Anderson had said that Lord Smythe would never find a match for that boy. Blaine had secretly hoped to meet him, and maybe get some advice on how to make himself an unfit match.

“Which one is Smythe?” he asked.

Quinn looked to the table their fathers sat at. “He's the one just talking to your father,” she said, a frown on her face. “Right opposite of my father.”

Blaine nodded as he memorized the face. Lord Smythe was a good looking man, probably a bit younger than Earl Anderson, with only a bit of gray in his dark hair. Right at that moment, Lord Smythe turned around and their eyes met. Blaine quickly looked away. There had been something unpleasant in this look.

“What about his family?” Blaine asked.

“Off with their spouses, or off partying with better company and better alcohol than this,” Santana said “And who can blame them?”

“You've had better days,” Blaine said, frowning at her. He knew he should be charming, or at least nice to her, but she was making it a bit difficult at the moment.

“Oh, please, we all know why we're here,” Santana said. “Your father is looking for a wife for you, and whoever it will be, she's sitting at this table. They're bartering about our future while we're in the same room, and they don't even bother to consult with us. So yes, I’ve had better days, Lord Anderson, and if you haven't? Then life for your half-northerners must be so horrible, that if I was the girl unlucky enough to be sold off to you, I'd probably kill myself out of sheer boredom.”

Even Sugar had stopped talking at that. Blaine felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at Santana, trying to think of something he could say. Quinn was holding a hand in front of her mouth to hide her reaction, but her eyes looked as if she was just as shocked as Blaine felt.

“Well, you seem to be riveting company.”

Blaine turned at the sound of this new voice. A young man about his age was standing behind him. Blaine's eyebrows rose as he took him in. He was good looking, his clothing was exquisite, and there was an air of easy confidence around him. He looked at the young people sitting at the table, and then his eyes fixed on Blaine.

“I don't believe we have met yet,” he said and held out his hand. “Sebastian Smythe,” he introduced himself as Blaine took the offered hand. “And I don't have to ask about your name, Lord Blaine.” There was a wink when Sebastian said his name, so fast that Blaine could almost convince himself it hadn't happened.

Blaine's eyes widened. So this was the infamous Sebastian Smythe. On first glance, he didn't look too scandalous, although the smile he gave Blaine was blinding.

“And where the hell have you been?” Santana drawled. “You've missed half the party.”

Sebastian pulled a chair to the table and put it between Blaine's and Lady Marley's, in process getting close enough for Blaine to feel the heat radiating off his body.

“If you've been on one, you've been on all of them,” he said dismissively. He grinned at Blaine again. “Though this time it might have actually been worth showing up after all. Tell me, what is it like up there in the almost north? Must be very exciting, otherwise we'd probably see a whole lot more of you.”

Blaine heard Santana snort, but tried to ignore her. “It's not that great,” he said, “there mostly aren't that many opportunities for my family to go further south.”

“And isn't that a pity,” Sebastian said. “Well, maybe in the future you might find some more opportunities... or reasons to visit us down here. Just the possibilities of entertainment we can offer here...”

Quinn cleared her throat. “I'm sure Lord Blaine has better things to do than whatever forms of entertainment you prefer,” she said. That steel was back in her voice, but this time even the appearance of cordiality she had shown to Santana was missing.

“Ah, Lady Quinn, from what I've heard our ideas of entertainment aren't so different,” Sebastian said. “Maybe we could all get together for a night out?”

Quinn glared at him, evidently at loss for words. Sebastian just smirked at her, before turning back to Blaine again, and looking straight into his eyes.

“So, is this your first visit to the capital? Can't believe I wouldn't have noticed you earlier otherwise...”

Blaine broke their eye contact, very aware of the blood rushing to his face. Nobody looked at him like that. It felt too intense, almost intimate. “I've been here often enough,” he said, “Dalton isn't that isolated.”

“That wasn't what I meant to imply,” Sebastian said smoothly. “I was actually trying to find out, if you need a guide to show you the more... interesting corners of the capital.”

Quinn forced a smile, and when she spoke her voice sounded like a razor covered in sugar. “I doubt that your idea of 'interesting' is appropriate for a dinner table.”

“A good thing you've all eaten already, then,” Sebastian said. “And I grabbed a bite to eat with an... acquaintance, earlier.”

“Right,” Santana snorted, “did you buy that one too or did you actually find somebody desperate enough to come with you willingly?”

“Well, we did come,” Sebastian replied.

Blaine looked down quickly and took another gulp from his goblet. He hoped he didn't look too shocked. He knew that some of his peers were quite free in their talk bout sex, although they all officially went to their wedding beds untouched. His own upbringing had been sheltered in that regard, at least since Cooper had left. It wasn't that he felt uncomfortable with their innuendo, it was just something he wasn't used to, and he didn't want to seem naïve around his southern peers. When he looked up again, Sebastian was giving him a knowing look. Clearly that hadn't worked.

“So where have you been?” Blaine asked. “Won't your father have a problem with you being so late?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I lost track of all the things he's upset about,” he said, “I doubt that one more thing more will make much of a difference. I'm the black sheep of the family, haven't you heard?”

“I actually have,” Blaine said, “although I haven't heard any details about it.”

Sebastian grinned, and there was something predatory about his expression. “Maybe I'll fill you in on them later. In private.”

Blaine's eyes widened and he looked away again, certain that his face looked more like a tomato by now. This wasn't a normal conversation. This was... it had to be flirting. Blaine didn't have much experience with that – well, he didn't have any experience, unless his clumsy attempts with Kurt counted. But this had to be it, and it was much bolder than anything he ever had expected – especially not in the presence of their peers, and of ladies.

Most of the ladies didn't seem to mind though. Most of them weren't sitting close enough to hear the conversation and had therefore started to talk about other things. Lady Sugar was once more talking about the things her father bought for her, although young Lord Abrams was the only one who hadn't gotten out of listening. Lady Santana had a glimmer in her eyes, and seemed quite entertained. Lady Quinn though was glaring.

It reminded Blaine of what company he was in. He wasn't back at Dalton, he was in the capital. These were his peers, and though he called some of them his friends, he knew he couldn't actually trust them. Sebastian may be flirting, but Blaine couldn't allow himself to reciprocate, nor could he allow himself to antagonize either Lady Quinn or Lady Santana. Most importantly, he couldn't risk this conversation getting to his father's ears, not if he wanted to keep his secret.

“I'm not so sure that would be a good idea,” Blaine said, trying to sound diplomatic. “Though... what are everybody's plans for the next few days? Do you have plans already, Quinn?”

Something of the ice in her posture seemed to thaw at that, and for a second Blaine could see a vulnerability in her that touched him. “Well, the wedding is the day after tomorrow, and I believe we'll all be busy enough then. But I wanted to visit the markets tomorrow. I'd be delighted about some company, if you would be interested.”

Blaine smiled at her, and hoped he showed more enthusiasm than he felt. “I'd like that,” he said. “What about you, Santana? Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“None I'd share with you,” she said. Clearly, this subject didn't interest her as much and she closed off again. Blaine wasn't sure if he had offended her somehow or if this was just one of her worse moods.

“Well, I'm sure the markets are interesting,” Sebastian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But honestly, Blaine, if you want to see something really interesting, you want to check out the Springs at night. That's where the actual festival is happening. The royal family knows how to pull off a show, but if you want an actual party, go and see the commoners. They can't be beaten at it.”

“It's not appropriate,” Lady Quinn said coldly.

“I'd tell you to live a little, but clearly that's not working out so well for you,” Sebastian said.

To Blaine's surprise, Quinn seemed to pale under that comment, but Sebastian kept talking, as if to overplay the moment.

“Anyway, I gave you my news on what's going on in the capital, how about you repay the favor? What's the hot news? There must be some new scandal in the making.”

Santana smirked now, looking like a wolf. “Oh, you wouldn't believe it...”

As she started to bring up the newest gossip of the southern nobility, Blaine leaned back n his chair. He felt better now that the attention wasn't on him anymore. It was easier to just let the others talk and try to remember as much of the gossip as he could – it might be helpful to have at least some idea of what was going on with the southern nobility. But a part of him couldn't help but wondering about the festival Sebastian had spoken of. Real celebration... something different froom the show the royal family was putting on... It did sound like something genuine, and hadn't he hoped for something like that?

But that could wait. Right now, what he had to do was to be attentive, to listen, and to answer the sweet little smiles Lady Quinn gave him from time to time.

...and to ignore the hand that suddenly landed on his thigh.

Blaine froze and shot a glance to his left. Sebastian was smirking and winked at him. The hand remained where it was.

Well, this _would_ be a long dinner.

* * *

It had been a long day, with the arrival at the capital, his tours into the city and unpacking all the baggage they had brought with them. So all in all, Kurt should have been completely exhausted, and fallen asleep immediately once he lay down.

Yet here he was, in a room with three other servants – luxury that he wasn't used to since he left his father's house – and while the other three servants were fast asleep, Kurt could only toss and turn.

There was a thrumming of energy running through him. It had to be the capital. He had dreamed of visiting it when he was a child, back when his mother had still been alive. She had come from the capital, although Kurt had never seen it. Of course, he was excited.

But it wasn't the thrill of excitement that kept him awake. There was some anxiety in it, a restlessness that he couldn't shake off. It was stupid, really, and he had no reason to be upset. He would need to be able to work tomorrow, and for that he needed sleep. What he didn't need was to think about Blaine, and how he was faring in the presence of the Ladies Fabray and Lopez.

Kurt just considered whether it would be helpful to get up now and take a little walk, when the door to the room opened, just enough for a person to slip through. For a moment, Kurt froze where he was, as the figure came closer, but then it stepped into the ray of moonlight falling through the window and Kurt could see who it was.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

At the sound of his voice, Blaine walked over to him.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt repeated. “And what is this you're wearing?”

From what he could see in the moonlight, the young lord was wearing a dreadfully simple combination of dark linen pants and a woolen shirt. He hardly looked like a noble when dressed like this, and for a moment Kurt feared that Blaine had gotten another idea on how to help the less fortunate by unconvincingly dressing up like one of them.

“Come with me,” Blaine said quietly. “There's a festival in the Springs.”

“What springs?” Kurt asked. “The springs are a few miles from here, there's just the river.”

Blaine chuckled. “It's a quarter of the city, Kurt. And there's a festival there. The commoners are celebrating. I've heard that it's the one genuine thing in this city. Let's go there, just you and me.”

Kurt's eyes widened. “Tomorrow will be a long day,” he said carefully.

“I know, but we don't have to stay all night. I just really want to see it,” Blaine said. “Come on, Kurt, let's just go. It's supposed to be amazing. Let's go there, let me show you something actually great while you're here.”

“I thought the wedding was going to be great,” Kurt said. It was a ridiculous idea, to just sneak out in the middle of the night for some festival... but then again, he couldn't sleep anyway, and Blaine sounded so excited...

“The wedding will be amazing, but this is going to be real.” Blaine took his hand, and even in the moonlight Kurt could see the spark in his eyes. “Please, Kurt. Come with me. _Please_.”

There wasn't much that Kurt could say against that. And he couldn't deny that he was curious, what it would be like.

“Okay, I'm coming with you.”

It took some time until they made it out of the building, with Kurt still having to change and Blaine insisting that they sneaked out. At night, the capital seemed completely transformed. There was torchlight everywhere, people walking through the streets... it was less clean, once they had made their way to the lower quarters, but the buildings were still magnificent, and as they got closer to the Springs, there were small crowds gathering. Everyone seemed happy, and Kurt could already hear the sound of music.

“There we are,” Blaine said eventually, as they turned around the corner, and Kurt saw the Springs.

They had come to a huge square with several stone wells in the center. Kurt could see the statues carved into them, displaying heroic deeds of kings since the founding of the realm. But now, they were covered in flowers, and illuminated by fires and candles. At the edge of the square, people were selling food and drinks, and a million other things, and closer to the center, there were people dancing to the sound of several different musicians, playing so close to each other that their music intermingled.

It was overwhelming. For a while – he couldn't have said how long – Kurt couldn't do anything more but stare at it.

“It's beautiful,” he said softly.

There was no answer, but he could feel Blaine’s hand knock against his. Without making a decision about it, Kurt let their hands meet, their fingers intertwine, and then held onto Blaine as if his life depended on it.

“I'm glad,” Blaine said.

Kurt turned to him, and for a moment just looked at him. It was unfair just how beautiful he was – everyday, but especially now, with the faint light of the flickering torches, the free and easy smile in his face... He looked so happy, this ridiculous, unbelievable boy, and if they would stand here a bit longer, Kurt knew that it would all break out of him, all those things he tried not to think, not to feel, and _never_ to say.

But then, Blaine was tugging at his hand and pulled him into the crowd.

Kurt had no idea how much time they spent here, getting lost between the people, the smells, the food, and oh, the music! They must have spent more than an hour dancing to it, and nobody even looked at them. Not that Kurt could have paid much attention to anyone else.

He loved the festival, he absolutely did. But the most amazing thing about it was Blaine. The young lord might be the one to bring Kurt here to show him everything, but now that they were here, he seemed just as amazed as Kurt felt.

He had never seen Blaine like this. He was usually at ease around Kurt, but he never let go like this. His smile was wide and carefree, he was laughing, his eyes were shining... Kurt had never seen him this _happy_. And he didn't need anything for it, not his money, not his position... Just the collective happiness of the party, the music – and maybe the dancing.

When they finally pulled away from the crowd, they stopped a few roads down and leaned against the walls, just laughing.

Kurt was staring at Blaine, beautiful and happy and out of breath Blaine, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to look away if he had to. Somehow, their hands had become intertwined again.

“So? Was this a good idea?” Blaine asked.

Kurt smiled widely. “Perfect.”

They were silent, and even that felt comfortable.

“What are you thinking of?” Blaine asked.

There were so many things Kurt could think of to say on the top of his head.

_I've never seen you so happy..._

_I want to run away with you, just us, we'll make it work, we'll figure it out._

_I'm in love with you._

Even with the lighting and the music and the dancing, Kurt still had enough wits to know he could never say any of this. But god, did he want to...

“Kurt?”

Blaine was looking at him with so much vulnerability, so beautiful...

“Blaine, I...”

“It's okay,” Blaine said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It's okay.”

And for a moment, Kurt could believe it, just one short moment in which he let go. He bowed forward, letting his forehead drop against Blaine's. He could just so see the soft flutter as the young lord's eyes closed, feel a gust of breath against his own skin, notice the whispered “Kurt...”, and then, he pressed their lips together.

For a moment, Blaine didn't move, maybe in shock. Kurt himself needed a moment to realize what he had just done. It was just a touch of lips, not fireworks as the fairy tales promised, but they were close, standing with each other, Blaine's scent all around him... it felt comfortable.

And then, Blaine's lips were moving over his, slowly and softly, and it all changed. How did his lips get so soft? And how did they get so warm? How did this simple movement of lips manage to pour warmth through his entire being? Kurt felt Blaine's left arm encircle his waist, only then noticed that his own arms had slipped around Blaine's shoulders. On instinct, he pulled Blaine closer, sighing into the kiss... and then, Blaine's lips opened under his. They were breathing each other in for a moment. Kurt couldn't tell who had started it but somehow their tongues were touching, moving against each other, and if Blaine's smell had dazzled him, the taste was on a completely different level, juice and sugar, the remains of wine, and a hint of ginger...

And suddenly, there was air again, as Blaine withdrew. Kurt opened his eyes, he didn't even know when he had closed them. Blaine was breathing quickly, his eyes wide in awe, and his face flushed. Slowly, Kurt noticed their surroundings, his own body, how warm his face felt... He could only imagine what he looked like.

And yet, at this moment nothing mattered, so he pulled Blaine back in and kissed him again.

He was gulping in the air once they parted again, Blaine's breath rushing over his face, harsh and hurried. As he calmed down, Kurt let his hands untangle from Blaine's hair, staring at how ruffled it looked, how enticing.

Blaine's eyes found his, and for a moment Kurt expected him to rush forward for a third kiss. He wanted him to, so he didn't really understand why he spoke in this moment exactly.

“Let's run away.”

Blaine froze in his arms. “What?” he asked after what felt like an eternity, way too long for this to be good.

“We can run away,” Kurt said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Just you and me. We can go to my father's, we'll figure something out that we can do.”

Blaine stared at him, but he didn't look awed or happy. He looked overwhelmed instead, and the worst of it was, there was clear regret in his eyes. Kurt let his arms fall and Blaine stepped away from him.

“Kurt, I... I can't do that,” he said softly. “You know I can't. My family...”

And wow, did Kurt feel stupid now. Of course, Blaine wouldn't want that. It was absolutely ridiculous, a completely stupid idea, and Kurt didn't know how he could ever have it, much less announce it.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said, “Kurt, I'm sorry, I wish I could, but... I'm sorry.”

“No, don't,” Kurt said, “it's fine, it was just an idea. Forget about it.” Only now did he notice how cold it had become.

Blaine was more than upset. “I'm sorry,” he said again. “I wish we could, but that's not how things work. I can't just run away from my family, not now when they need me.”

“They need you to get married, which you don't want to,” Kurt reminded him.

“You're the one who said that was my lot in life,” Blaine said softly. “I can't run. I wish it'd be this easy, but it's not – you know it's not.”

“I know,” Kurt said, and managed a small smile. “It was just an idea. It's fine. Let's just... let's just go back. It's late, we have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Blaine still looked upset, but he didn't put up any resistance when Kurt started walking again, he just followed quietly. The easy mood between them had dissipated of course, but that wasn't a surprise.

Kurt wished he had kept his mouth shut, instead of ruining this night for the both of them. But not the kiss, he'd never regret the kiss. He couldn't have Blaine – clearly, that was out of the question, as he had known for ages – but he could keep this memory.

It was something, even if it could never be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late posting, I haven't had much opportunity to write for a few weeks, and then I got distracted by a completely different plot bunny. Not to worry though, until it's finished this story has top priority in writing.  
> As a warning right here, this chapter has only minimal Klaine interaction, we get a glimpse of Santana, some political negotiation, and see more of Quinn.  
> Also, I'd like to note that this story is kind of running away from me. Following my original plan, the plot is still somewhere in what was supposed to be the second chapter. Ah well, so it goes.

 

* * *

Work was supposed to take his mind off things, but today, Kurt wasn't as lucky. It was hard enough to keep up with the strict program they had for today, even if there wasn't the fact that he had hardly slept – dancing through half the night and spending the rest of it wallowing in self-pity wasn't exactly restful. All in all, Kurt should have been completely occupied with just following his instructions in order to prepare Dalton's contribution to the wedding feast.

But even as he was chased around the kitchen, he couldn't stop thinking about last night.

It had been a mistake, he knew that. He should have kept his mouth shut, never spoken of that ridiculous idea to run away. That was exactly the kind of dream he had tried to avoid. No matter how handsome and charming Blaine was, it still didn't mean that things would work out. There was a certain order to these things, and Kurt knew that he didn't fit into Blaine's future. Nothing had changed.

Still, his thoughts were jumbled all day, and he was glad that Shannon's instructions were so clear that following them didn't require much alertness. As the day progressed, he could feel the upset from before transform into anger. He had his pride, and he had always known he would not agree to be anybody's dirty secret, and that he wouldn't allow his notions of romance to ruin an amazing friendship. But that hadn't stopped Blaine from looking at him, taking him into confidence... that hadn't stopped Blaine from making advances, from taking him to a festival, to dance with him... Kurt might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Blaine had reciprocated with so much enthusiasm that it was obvious he had wanted it. Blaine had done all that, but once Kurt asked for more, he had shut down.

Was Blaine really just looking for a warm and willing body?

Kurt couldn't believe it, no matter how angry he was. He couldn't imagine there being any malevolence in it. Blaine wasn't cruel or selfish. If Kurt actually managed to ignore his feelings on the matter for just a moment, then he could admit that Blaine probably just didn't know what he was doing either. Maybe he didn't even know what he was feeling.

It was unfortunate then, that in this instance, Kurt knew exactly what he was feeling. As much as he had tried to stop it, he had fallen in love. Blaine may not know what he was feeling, but to Kurt it was obvious. He had fallen for every ridiculous cliche of a romance story, had fallen in love with the noble prince.

Unfortunately, this was reality. There would be no last second revelation that he was secret nobility and they could marry. Earl Anderson would not suddenly decide that his son should follow his heart. There would be no happy ending for them.

Kurt had thought about all that a million times. He had thought about it, and understood it, and accepted it. Of course, it was different to have all that he knew brought up like that by Blaine. It was also different to tell himself it could never be now that he knew the taste of Blaine's mouth, the feel of his tongue, those soft noises and sighs...

With a frustrated groan, Kurt pushed the pan he had just cleaned away. Why couldn't he just stop thinking about Blaine? Clearly the young lord wasn't wasting his time thinking about him.

“What are you doing?”

Kurt looked up to see Brittany sitting on a counter.

“It's nothing,” Kurt said with a sigh. “It's just... frustrating.”

“I'm bored too,” Brittany said, “we're all locked up in here, and I haven't even seen Santana yet. I wanted to come along to the dinner, but Shannon wouldn't let me. So I wrote a letter for her and gave it to a messenger bird, but I think it might have gotten lost. I told it to follow the little lord, because he's like a little bird himself, but maybe it got confused by other birds? I was just hoping she'd come by...”

Kurt shook his head. “I'm very sorry about that, Brittany, but I don't think she's coming.”

“But why wouldn't she?” Brittany asked, a note of confusion in her voice. “I was so wishing she'd come by for some sweet lady kisses...”

Kurt stared at her. “Brittany... I don't think you're supposed to talk about this,” he said. He suddenly felt colder. He hadn't ever actually spoken about his situation with Blaine, but he hadn't worried about it, either. If she was this careless about even her own secrets...

“It's true, though. I don't understand why people aren't allowed to say things if they are true,” Brittany said. “All those rules are so confusing. Like the berries I wasn't supposed to eat. I just wanted to try if they're good for the celebration.”

Kurt's eyes widened. “Brittany, did you eat all the berries?!”

She shook her head. “Only half of it,” she said, “but Shannon told me to get more anyway.”

Kurt sighed. “Alright, let's go then. We have enough time yet, if we hurry now.”

Brittany beamed at him. “It's so great that you're coming with me. Let's go then?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. To be honest, he had hoped he'd get a chance to see the capital's markets. It probably wouldn't be as amazing as the festival had been – on the other hand, he could probably expect that there'd be no further kisses and embarrassments at the end of this excursion.

And here he was thinking about Blaine again.

Once they'd gone to the markets though, he actually did find some distraction. There were crowds of course, even though they had gone to the more expensive market where the nobles' servants of the capital got their supplies. Kurt had to be very careful not to lose Brittany, who showed as much focus as a young kitten, running from one vendor to the next to see the exotic goods they offered. Kurt had to admit that it took him some concentration himself not to follow her example. There were products here that he could never even have dreamed of. Many things weren't delivered as far north as Dalton, and Lima was even more secluded.

He was just starting to enjoy himself, when Brittany piped up beside him.

“Oh look, there's the little lord!”

Kurt looked to where she was pointing, and indeed, only a few yards away, there was Blaine. And of course, he wasn't alone. Lady Quinn was hanging at his arm, talking and smiling.

Quickly, Kurt took Brittany's arm and pulled her into an alley where they wouldn't be seen.

“I thought Lady Santana would be with him,” Brittany said, disappointment in her voice.

“What?” Kurt stared at her.

Brittany shrugged. “I heard him talk to his father, and the Earl was so happy that he'd take a lady to the market. But he's here with Lady Quinn.”

“You planned this?” Kurt asked.

“I really wanted to see her,” Brittany said. “And I thought she would be the first choice. She'd make a much better wife for him than Quinn. Santana is much smarter and prettier.”

“Wait, I thought you liked Santana,” Kurt said in in confusion.

Brittany blinked at him and looked as if he just said something incredibly stupid. “I do,” she said, “didn't you listen? I just said she was smarter and prettier than Quinn.”

But then why do you want her to marry Blaine?”

"Because I like the little lord, and he should have a smart and pretty wife,” Brittany explained.

“Wouldn't you rather be with Santana?” Kurt asked.

Brittany nodded. “Of course I would. Where are you going with this?”

Kurt didn't even know where to start. Was Brittany actually in the same position he was with Blaine? And if so, how could she possibly hope for Santana to marry anybody? Or was she happy enough to have her in close proximity, even if she was married? Would Brittany be fine with being just an affair? If so, why couldn't he himself imagine to be happy in such an arrangement?

“This alley is a bit boring,” Brittany said. Apparently she had either forgotten she had asked a question, or she had simply stopped caring about the answer. “Can we go back to shopping, please?”

Kurt peaked outside, but Blaine and Quinn had already walked off. “Alright then,” he said, “but let's hurry, we shouldn't stay here too long. Shannon needs us back with the berries soon.” And the longer they stayed here, the bigger was the chance of running into Blaine once more.

With the many buyers out on the streets, they still needed way too long to get the berries. By the time they returned to the kitchens, Shannon was already pacing the floor, waiting for the last ingredients. The cake was fresh out of the oven, and the berries still had to be ground.

“Next time you see something you want to try, come to me first,” Shannon said strictly.

Brittany nodded amicably, a soft smile on her face. “Okay, I'll do that,” she said. She didn't seem particularly sorry, though.

“Alright,” Shannon said, “now you two go up to our quarters and get me mould for the Dalton crest. We'll be done before dinner, and those southerners won't know what hit them.”

“Brittany?” Kurt asked, as they crossed the courtyard to get to their sleeping quarters. “Did you eat those berries on purpose, so you'd get to go to the market?”

“I liked them,” Brittany said shrugging. “I wish I'd seen Santana, though.”

Before Kurt could answer, he could hear melodious laughter. Looking up, he could see two women walking through the courtyard. One was dressed in the fine clothing of a noble lady, a fiery red to contrast her tan skin and dark hair. Her companion was wearing simpler clothes, maybe a servant or a merchant at best. She had an arm looped through the darker woman's, and was playing with a lock of her blond hair. But it was the lady who had been laughing.

“You have to be the funniest girl I've ever met,” she said, “I could listen to you all day.”

Kurt frowned at their behavior, but wasn't going to pay much attention to them – until the lady looked up and directly at them. Her laughter turned into a scowl.

“And look what we have here,” she said, “two kitchen rats. They probably don't have any tailors up in Dalton, do they?”

Kurt felt his temper rise. Who did this woman think she even was? But before he could make the mistake of talking to her, Brittany stepped forward and into the path of the lady.

“Santana? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be on the market.”

Kurt froze. _That_ was the girl Brittany was so obsessed with? And from the way the lady looked at them, that feeling wasn't quite as mutual as Brittany had made it sound.

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” Lady Santana asked.

“Of course you do,” Brittany said, sounding more confused than Kurt had ever heard her. “You stayed at Dalton for two weeks, of course you know me.”

Santana looked up, as if she was seriously going through her memory, and then suddenly, her eyes lit up, as if the memory dawned on her. “Oh, your Blanderson's little kitchen wench,” she said. “I think I remember you. Was it... Brenda? Bonnie?”

“Brittany! It's Brittany!” The girl now actually sounded upset.

“Brittany...”, Santana repeated slowly, letting the name roll over her tongue. “Brittany... Oh, _yeees_ , Brittany. Now I remember. How are the unicorns, _Brittany_?”

“I don't want to talk about unicorns,” Brittany said. “I wanted to see you.”

Santana snorted. “I'm very sorry, _Brittany_ , but I'm already having charming company. Dani here is keeping me quite busy. But have a nice stay at the capital, and maybe I'll look you up if I'm ever unfortunate enough to go up in that wilderness again.” She shot Brittany a look that couldn't be called anything but triumphant, before she and her companion turned around. The girl named Dani looked back, seeming as confused as Kurt felt about that interaction.

As they left, Kurt looked at Brittany. She was still looking at where Santana had left. He had never seen her this upset. No, not just upset – devastated.

“Brittany? Are you okay?”

She shook her head lightly. “No,” she said. “Why would she be so mean to me?”

Kurt had no answer to this. He didn't really know her situation, didn't know Santana at all. Still, it was clear that Brittany was heart-broken at the way Santana had spoken to her. Helplessly, Kurt put a hand on Brittany's arm and started to lead her up to their quarters.

“This is why we don't fall in love with the nobility,” he said. “They have their own life. We can't be much more than a distraction. And the thing about distraction is... it's so easy to find a new one.”

Brittany made a noise, but didn't give another answer. Kurt wasn't sure what to say to console her. It probably didn't help that he couldn't stop comparing it to the situation he was in. He knew Brittany was hurting, probably worse than he was. At least Blaine hadn't been cruel, just helpless and scared.

But this too was a reminder that he couldn't have what he wanted. And that was why servants shouldn't fall in love with the lords and ladies. But the warning was too late for the both of them.

* * *

The markets of the capital were remarkable, much more exquisite than the ones Blaine knew from Dalton and its outlying territories. But he had been here before, so they weren't completely new to him.

Right now, he was grateful for the markets and how busy they were. There were crowds and shouting everywhere, dozens of vendors, a few of the lower nobles who were doing their own shopping and youths like themselves, strolling along the market for entertainment.

Lady Quinn was surprisingly good company. She had an arm looped through his and was walking very close to him. From time to time, she would point out something of interest, or suggest taking a closer look at one of the stands, and sometimes, when there was a pause in conversation, she let her head rest on his shoulder.

It wasn't bad. He could almost feel comfortable. Almost – until Quinn gave him one of those looks that she probably thought he didn't notice, and that he couldn't quite grasp... as if she was suspicious of him, or planning something. From time to time she stumbled and twice he had to grasp her to stop her from falling. Both times, he had blushed furiously when he felt her breasts pressed against him. Afterwards, Quinn had laughed girlishly and winked at him.

It was confusing and unsettling – but at least, Quinn kept him busy. It helped keeping his thoughts at bay. But every time Quinn didn't command his attention, they started to stray.

The crowds and the shouting reminded him of the festival last night, and it was impossible to think about the festival without thinking of Kurt, and the kiss, and how Blaine had ruined everything.

How long had he wished to kiss Kurt? To hold him in his arms, to be wanted by him? All his attempts at flirting hadn't led him anywhere, but one night of genuine celebration had made Kurt kiss him as if it was their last night on earth.

It wasn't, though.

If it had been, Blaine would have run anywhere with him, given up everything so they could spend that time together. But there would be a tomorrow, and there would be consequences. He could kiss Kurt, hold him, be happy for a few blissed out moments. The next morning though, he'd have to go back to being his father's son, and love – especially loving Kurt – was not within his possibilities. He had duties and responsibilities... and still, he had wanted it. He had never wanted to stop kissing him, wanted to hold him closer, find out if the skin of his throat tasted the way his lips did, if he was as pale all over...

And then what?

He had to do right by his family. He had to get married, have children... nothing he wanted, no matter how much he tried to resign himself to this future. But that was his lot. He couldn't run away, not now. This might be the first time his father needed him. All those years growing up he had wished for his father to see him, and now that it was happening, how could he leave?

It had been an epiphany, in a way. Before, he had tried to get close to Kurt – never to make him uncomfortable, but hoping so much that there could be more. He had craved Kurt's laughter, his kiss, his touch... but he hadn't really thought it would happen, had never thought about what would happen afterwards.

When Kurt had asked him to run away, it had all come crashing down around him. He couldn't run away, and if they stayed, all he could offer Kurt was being an affair, something dark and shameful and hidden away. He couldn't connect any of those words with Kurt.

“Oh, look at that stand. Come, you have to try these.”

Again, Quinn's voice dragged him from his thoughts, at least for a moment.

“Chillies, they're simply wonderful,” Quinn said, pointing at some kind of vegetable the vendor was selling. “They're from the East, very spicy.” She looked at him, and with a grin he couldn't quite place took something off the stand. It was long and pointed, like a scabbard, and the color was an intense red. It reminded him of the bell peppers they'd eaten the last time he'd been at the capital. “Are you courageous, Lord Blaine?” Quinn asked. There was definitely a hint of teasing in her voice, as she held it out to him.

“I think I can deal with vegetables,” Blaine said. He took it out of her hand, and without hesitation bit off a piece. He chewed twice, before his mouth was on fire. It felt as if his tongue was burnt off, the heat spreading to the roof of his mouth, and he gasped for breath, but it didn't help either. Above all, he could hear Quinn's bell like laughter.

“Young lord!”

He could hardly look up when the vendor called out to him, but Quinn seemed to understand, and a moment later she put a piece of white bread into his hand. Luckily, he knew enough from Kurt to know that this would help better with the burn than water would.

With tearing eyes, he looked up at Quinn, who was still laughing. She calmed down enough to take out her handkerchief, drying his face.

“That was very courageous,” she said, probably to humor him, “although funny. Very funny.”

“So glad I amuse you, Mylady,” Blaine said. It sounded strange to his own ears with the way his tongue was hurting.

Quinn smiled. “We'll work on your technique, Mylord.” And without taking her eyes of him, she grabbed another one of the chillies from the table, put it into her mouth until only the green at the end could be seen – and bit down. Blaine's eyes widened as she chewed, remembering the burning sensation, but Quinn didn't seem fazed at all. With one last triumphing look at Blaine, she swallowed, letting the green fall to the ground.

“I can teach you.”

Blaine stared at her. He couldn't believe anybody could eat this... thing, and stay so calm. The vendor was applauding, and so were a few other people that Blaine only noticed now had gathered around them.

Quinn curtsied and winked at him again. “Shall we?” she asked.

Blaine could hardly remember to give a few coins to the vendor before she looped her arm through his again and dragged him along.

“You know, they say that chilies are an aphrodisiac,” Quinn said off-handedly.

Blaine felt the blood rush right back into his head. “Is it?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, although he figured he wasn't very successful with it.

“Well, there are millions of stories about different dishes,” Quinn said. “Maybe you'd like to come to our city manor for dinner? I believe our cook would be willing to experiment some more.”

“Aren't they busy with the preparations for tomorrow?” Blaine asked. his thoughts were racing as he tried to think of a way to decline this offer.

“They'd find a moment – if I asked,” Quinn said. She was smiling, but there was something behind the smile that felt somehow... wrong to him. There was some hidden motive there, and he couldn't say what it was. He was sure, though, that he had seen this look somewhere before, and recently.

And then, he realized. Sebastian. Quinn was looking at him – and talking to him – the way Sebastian had talked to him last night.

Oh dear god, Quinn was flirting with him.

Blaine wasn't sure just why it had taken him this long to realize it – really, now that he thought about it, she had been obvious about it. Maybe he had still been too confused about Kurt to really understand what was happening. Now, he saw clearly. Quinn was flirting with him, and he wasn't sure why. Did she like him? But why would she? No, it was more likely that Duke Fabray was also interested in an alliance with Dalton and had told her to use her charms.

It still didn't make Blaine more comfortable with the situation.

“So... what are your plans for after the festivities?” he asked, trying to find some common ground.

She shrugged. “I'm almost of age,” she said, “I believe my father is currently doing the same as yours is, looking for a good match for me. And after that? Well, I hope I will soon have a few children to look after. What about you?”

Blaine suppressed a sigh. He had hoped to hear something about her private plans, maybe things she would like to do with her free time. Instead they were right at the subject he had wanted to get away from.

“I actually don't know what I'm to do,” Blaine admitted. “It depends on the match my father is making.”

“I hope he finds someone for you that you find... appealing.” Her eyebrows were raised, , but then Blaine noticed her eyes widen – not much, she was still subtle about it, but something must have upset her.

“Um... I just remembered,” she said, “my mother is expecting me back soon. How about you enjoy the markets on your own for a while? I'm sure we'll see each other tomorrow.”

“Should I bring you there?” Blaine asked confused.

“No!” They both froze at the sharp tone in her voice before she continued. “No, that won't be necessary,” she said much softer. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She smiled and curtsied, before she turned and walked away. Blaine looked behind himself to where she had looked when her eyes had widened. He could just so see the figure of a young man with dark hair making his way through the crowd, maybe trying to follow Quinn, but even from where he was standing, Blaine could see that he had lost her trace already. He thought about confronting the stranger but before he could decide, the young man had disappeared in the crowds.

Blaine frowned. The lady was a mystery... he just hoped she was safe.

* * *

Visiting the capital always meant a waste of time. There was no better place to forge political alliances, obviously, but there was too much talking, dining, and wasting time on trivial pleasantries. Earl Anderson liked to get things over and done with. But down here, in the heart of the south, things followed a different rhythm. Dalton may not be part of the north, but most of the time Earl Anderson felt more comfortable with the northerners way of thinking. At least with them he knew where he stood.

Granted, where he stood with them didn't look good, hence the grave necessity to improve his standing with the king, and ally himself with the inner circle. And among that circle, there was no one more crafty than Lord Smythe.

They were an interesting family, and Earl Anderson cursed for the thousandth time that all the Smythe daughters were already married. All that was left was the youngest son, the _deviant_.

As they sampled the wine, Earl Anderson watched Lord Smythe. He fit right into this study of his, filled with unimportant knick-knacks and ridiculous paintings on the wall that showed more money than taste.

“Well, isn't this a remarkable little grape?” Lord Smythe asked. “If you pay attention, there's a sweet, dark aftertaste. Why, it's almost like chocolate – although I assume you don't get much chocolate up in Dalton.”

“We get what's necessary,” Earl Anderson said, “and I'd appreciate if we'd get to the point now.”

Lord Smythe sighed. “Always so impatient. You know, Lopez has a point, you do give the impression of a northerner sometimes.”

“Yet Dalton belongs to the south, as we both know,” Earl Anderson said. “Lord Lopez said that?”

“He wouldn't be caught dead, he'd be too scared you'd ever hear about it. No, that would be the word of his daughter. Lady Santana is quite free with her tongue,” Lord Smythe said. “Although I guess this is rather a problem for your son and not for you.”

Earl Anderson growled, but didn't answer. His son's problem... well, this would be a nice change from his son just being a problem. What a curious situation that his younger son of all people would prove to be the one to save their family. All the Earl had to do was arrange a marriage, and he had basically three families to choose from – two, if he wanted to be picky.

Maybe it was because there had been so many years without a living child after Cooper's birth, but by the time Blaine had come along, Earl Anderson had resigned himself to having only one son. The second child, born ten years later, had been a nice bonus, a safety net so to speak, but by then he had already decided to invest his energy into raising his first-born to be his sole heir. He had even managed to get an excellent match – a smart girl whose family wasn't too ambitious but at the time had been a great political match. Looking back now, the Earl was happy to see he had made the right choice. Blaine could never be his heir. The boy was too soft, too sensitive. Not a great fighter, not a great hunter, not shrewd enough for politics. He showed too much pity, and too much empathy – nice attributes for a girl or a priest, but not for a noble. For a while, the Earl had even considered giving the boy up to the church. In the end, he had decided against it, hoping for an influential match at least. And now, this decision would pay off.

“She's very outspoken, Lady Santana. But from what I've seen of your son so far, that might not be so bad,” Lord Smythe continued.

Earl Anderson glared at him. “I'd prefer a woman that knows how to hold her tongue,” he said. “It's not proper for her to eclipse her husband.”

Lord Smythe raised an eyebrow. “That might be a problem with Lady Santana. If you want a proper wife, you should definitely make an offer to Duke Fabray. From what I've heard and seen, Lady Quinn would make a model wife. And I did get the impression she and your son get along quite well.”

“That may be,” Earl Anderson said, “although that is secondary.”

“It won't hurt,” Lord Smythe said. “To be honest, I never quite understood why you kept the decision open for so long. It's not flattering for either family, you know? Especially Lady Lopez – the older one, that is – seems almost offended at being kept waiting like this.”

“Is it important what she thinks?” the Earl asked.

Lord Smythe shrugged in a weirdly fluid motion that reminded the Earl of a snake. “It's important to Lord Lopez. Rumor has it he hasn't made a decision for himself since she decided to marry him. And like Lady Santana, her tongue is quite free. It probably doesn't help with her mood that Lady Santana is famous for driving away suitors.”

“What are you saying?” Earl Anderson asked.

Lord Smythe frowned and looked as if he was seriously thinking about the issue. But every change of expression, every movement of his hands was just a bit too much, too strong to be anything but a calculated show.

“May I be frank?” Lord Smythe asked.

“Please be,” the Earl said.

"Lady Santana is known to be fickle, Lord Lopez is known to be controlled by his wife, and his wife's temper is even worse than his daughter's.”

Earl Anderson raised his eyebrows. That was indeed frank.

“The Lopez family is so difficult that even the king gets annoyed with them from time to time. It's just a matter of time until they do or say something that completely drives him over the cliff. Santana Lopez is a horrible choice for your daughter by law. You can completely forget about the Motta family, if you want to retain the king's favor, since rumor has it he wants to marry off one of the younger princes to Lady Sugar – Motta is useless politically, but his fortune might even surpass the crown's. Making a move on his daughter would be political suicide. We both know that you need the king's favor in case thinks go wrong with the northerners, which is likely to happen within the next two or three years. To be precise, there is exactly one choice for you if you want this to work.”

“Lady Fabray.”

Lord Smythe nodded. “Lady Fabray. And I suggest you close the deal on this marriage as soon as possible, unless you want the Duke to be offended as well. I'm actually meeting him for lunch, if you wish I could arrange for you to come along, maybe help along with the negotiations.”

Earl Anderson frowned. “Why do you care so much?”

Lord Smythe laughed. “Isn't it obvious? The king doesn't care much about Dalton. His sight is on more immediate matters. But eventually, the situation will become more obvious, and then he'll be grateful to have you in our fold – and remember all those involved in getting you there.”

“You're playing a long game,” Earl Anderson said.

“That's how politics work, my friend,” Lord Smythe said.

The Earl swallowed the urge to tell him that they were not friends. “It would have been easier if you'd had another daughter,” he said instead.

Lord Smythe sighed. “Only one son left, and god knows I won't get a match for him.”

Earl Anderson nodded. It wasn't a secret that Sebastian Smythe consorted with men, be it commoners, prostitutes or even some other deviant nobles. He didn't keep it hidden, either, and sometimes even made a show out of it. The result was that every betrothal Lord Smythe had tried to negotiate was rejected immediately. The offer alone was seen as an insult.

“I even thought about putting him into a union,” Lord Smythe said, “you know, just to get rid of him. But those are even worse to negotiate, and so far I haven't been desperate enough.”

The Earl shuddered at the thought.

“Have you ever considered that for your son?” Lord Smythe asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Your younger son,” Lord Smythe said.

Earl Anderson stood up so quickly that the chair fell over. “My son's conduct has been completely chaste so far. I understand that you're having problems with yours, but that has nothing to do with my family. I'd appreciate if you keep those implications to yourself.”

Lord Smythe just shrugged, unimpressed by the outburst. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Be that as it may, though, it's time we'll pay a visit to Duke Fabray. We wouldn't want to make him wait.”

“We wouldn't,” the Earl agreed.

“Then let's go.”

* * *

When Kurt saw Blaine again, his temper had calmed down He was still upset, still hurt, and wasn't sure if that was ever going to go away. But his anger had dissipated. Kurt actually started to feel sorry for the young lord. It had to be hard to have all those expectations on him...

Still, even with his anger gone, Kurt had hoped to have some more time before he saw Blaine again. He had only held out until the evening. He had helped sweeping the kitchen after their baking marathon. He hadn't expected Blaine to walk in.

The young lord looked around for a moment to make sure they were alone, before he came closer.

“Kurt? Can we talk for a moment?” he asked.

“I don't think that's appropriate,” Kurt said. He couldn't discuss it, least of all right now.

“I wanted to apologize...”

Kurt shook his head. “There's nothing to apologize for,” he said. An apology would not make things better. “Besides, I still have work to do.”

Blaine looked at him with that mixture of sadness, and defiance. “Kurt, please don't be like that.”

“I'm not sure what you mean, M'lord,” Kurt said, putting emphasis on the title.

For a moment, Blaine looked at him, his mouth slightly open as if he was just about to give a reply but couldn't think of the right words.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Just...” He took a pouch from his belt and put it on the counter closest to Kurt. “They're for you,” he said softly, “and I hope with time you'll understand, even if you won't forgive me.”

Kurt looked away. He couldn't see Blaine this upset, not now. “That was not necessary,” he said.

When Blaine spoke again, there was despair in his voice. “Please, Kurt, I just want-”

“There you've been.”

Both of them flinched when they heard the Earl's voice. Kurt's eyes widened. How much had the earl heard? At least a bit too much, judging from the way his eyes seemed to drill into Blaine's.

“Let's be quick about this, boy,” the earl said, “”it's not official yet and the contracts won't be signed yet, not until the royal wedding is through. But we've come to an agreement. You are to wed Lady Quinn Fabray.”

Kurt didn't dare to look at Blaine, could only imagine how he'd react to this announcement. Quinn was a better choice than most would have been, probably, but the confirmation of the wedding still had to be a hit.

“We'll go over a few things in my study,” Earl Anderson said, “so come along. And you, boy, don't you have work to do?”

Kurt flinched. “Yes, M'lord,” he said and hurried to get out of the room. He didn't want to see how upset Blaine was, didn't want to show how bad he felt himself. Kurt didn't get far, though. Around two corners, he leant against the wall.

It had to be a hit for Blaine, but he hadn't expected he would feel this bad himself. Not after last night, not after Blaine had dealt a much worse blow only such a short time ago. And here he was again. He'd probably never learn.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't stone me.
> 
> Well, now that I have your attention, let's see what to warn about in this chapter: a wedding, wine, Quinn, Sebastian, and some Seblaine.
> 
> And still, the story is running away from me. I actually planned to get through the whole wedding feast in one chapter, but it got so long that I decided to split it. Originally, this was planned in seven chapters. Somehow I've got a feeling I won't be able to stick to that.
> 
> Anyway, enough blabbing, on with the story.

 

* * *

Every surface in the cathedral was gleaming. There was more gold in one place than Blaine had ever seen, set off by mirrors and precious jewels, dark amethysts representing the bride's family. Millions of candles were burning, their little flames reflected by the mirroring surfaces, lighting up the cathedral right up to the high ceiling. Blaine wondered just how the royal couple would even be seen amidst all that splendor. But then the king and queen actually entered, and Blaine realized how silly that idea had been. The queen's dress had a skirt so wide that they almost couldn’t pass through the main aisle, and the king was wearing his most splendid armor. As they approached the altar, both of them went down onto one knee to receive the priests' blessing, before they took their places to the right, opposite the bride's family who had already entered before.

Now all of them were waiting for the bride and groom. Blaine was standing with the other young, unwed nobles. A few rows in front of him, he could see the ladies Quinn and Santana, standing beside each other, but never even looking at each other. From time to time, Quinn turned around to find his eye and smile. Judging from the way she looked at him, she knew about the planned engagement, and she seemed happy enough about it.

Blaine turned away from her. If she looked at him too long, she'd realize he didn't share her enthusiasm, and as long as things weren't official he couldn't risk offending her. Of course, now he had inadvertently turned to Sebastian standing beside him, who used the opportunity to bow down and speak.

“They're really going all out on this, aren't they?”

The words were whispered into his ear, sending a rush of air against his skin and a shiver down his spine. He tried to take a subtle step to the side to put a bit more distance between them, but there wasn't much space for them to stand in the first place. He wasn't sure how to deal with Sebastian, the way the other boy looked at him, and some of the things he said – not that he wasn't flattered, but the attention made him uncomfortable.

“Father says this is even more extravagant than the wedding the king and queen had,” Sebastian continued. “Then again, this is the crown prince. You better believe that thequeen only accepts the best for him.”

“Well, it _is_ impressive,” Blaine said.

Sebastian snorted. “That's a way to phrase it,” he said. “Now what do you really think?”

Blaine looked up to him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian was grinning at him. “You poor little thing,” he said, “you don't even notice, do you? You're so used to censoring yourself that you've forgotten how to just state your opinion.”

Blaine frowned. “You don't know me,” he said, turning away from him again.

“I'd like to though,” Sebastian said. “On various levels. Now, come on – what do you really think of it?”

Blaine bit his lip, still hesitating, before he spoke eventually. “I think there's so much gold, it'll be a surprise if they don't go blind just by walking down the aisle.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Not bad for a first attempt,” he said. “We'll make a rebel out of you yet, killer. Oh, and look, here comes the prince.”

Blaine turned his head to see the crown prince entering. He, too, was wearing armor, but Blaine knew for a fact that he had never fought in battle. Unlike his father's armor, it was clearly constructed for show instead of protection.

“Doesn't he look happy,” Blaine muttered, once his eyes fell onto the prince's face. If anything, he looked bored.

“He doesn't care much about the match,” Sebastian said, “besides, he's the crown prince. He can do whatever he wants anyway. He mostly wants the festivities to be over, so his mother will stop bothering him.”

“Do you talk to the prince often?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “On occasion. The queen is very protective of her children, she hardly ever lets them mingle with others, even with their peers. My father is close to the throne, otherwise I probably wouldn't have been let near him.”

“Is she that paranoid?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian shrugged, although his lips turned into a wolfish grin. “I have a reputation.”

Blaine turned back to the front. “You do,” he said.

“Whereas you remain a riddle,” Sebastian said. “How long are you staying at the capital again?”

“A few days,” Blaine said. “At least until the end of the week, I think.”

“Maybe I'll have you figured out by then,” Sebastian said. Blaine shuddered, not sure if he should see it as a promise or a threat.

As the prince knelt down in front of the priest, the crowd turned around to see the lady. Her dress was wider than the queen's, an explosion of white with golden highlights, bright and glittering enough that Blaine was sure she would gleam in the dark.

When they were both kneeling, the priest started to speak. after the traditional blessings, the sermon started. Blaine had trouble paying attention to it. As the priest talked about loving and honoring one another, his thoughts drifted to his own upcoming marriage to Quinn.

He could try to honor her, but he couldn't love her. It was still something he hadn't come to terms with. He certainly couldn't give her what she would expect from a husband. All he could do was treat her with respect and care, and hope that they could build a life together.

For a moment, he tried to imagine what it would be like if his father would ever consider a union. Would he be happier if he could have a man as his spouse? Immediately, his thoughts went to Kurt, what it would be like to step in front of the altar together... But no, even if his father would agree to a union – and of course, that would never happen – it would be to a noble, not a kitchen servant.

There was a point of pressure on his arm, warmth spreading from where Sebastian had taken his arm.

“Thinking about your own wedding?” he asked.

Blaine's eyes widened. “What do you know about it?”

Sebastian shrugged. “My father makes it his business to meddle in any affair he can get his hands into – one of them your upcoming betrothal. Of course, I hear things. Quinn seems happy about it.”

“She does, doesn't she?” Blaine managed not to sigh.

“More than you are,” Sebastian said. “But you'll get used to it. They all do.”

“Why aren't you married?” Blaine asked. “I've only heard that your father couldn't find a match for you, but why is that? Your family is so influential, and you've come of age... how many years ago?”

“Three,” Sebastian said, “and as I said, I have a reputation.”

“But-”

Someone shushed them and Blaine snapped his mouth shut. When he looked to the front again, he saw the couple had stood up, ready before the priest to say their vows. The whole cathedral went silent waiting for them to speak.

“With this hand, I pledge my oath to you. With this cloak, I will shield you from all harm. And with this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this hand, I pledge my oath to you. With this chain, I bind myself to you. And with this ring, I thee wed.”

In front of all the nobility, the crown prince kissed his bride. Even from where he was sitting, Blaine could see how happy the new crown princess looked, and even the prince didn't seem bored anymore. It didn't look so bad, and yet Blaine couldn't imagine himself being happy once it would be his turn.

And Sebastian wasn't helping, bowing down just for a moment for one sentence.

“Careful, killer – you're next.”

* * *

Kurt walked with his head held high, although nobody was really paying attention to him. He would have expected that the royal family had enough servants to take care of the festivities themselves, but as it turned out, the other noble families had pitched in, which led to him and Brittany, as well as the other servants that had come from Dalton, walking around, refilling empty wine glasses.

Dozens of tables had been erected under masses of tents. The royals had apparently expected rain, although so far the weather held. The tents were reserved for the nobility, while the wealthy citizens of the capitel were celebrating outside.

Kurt wasn't sure whether he was just out to punishing himself, but he found himself drawn to the table Blaine was sitting at with some of the other young nobles, including Lady Quinn. He made sure to serve the other tables surrounding it, though, preferring to watch them without getting too close.

And to think that Kurt had actually kind of liked her when she had visited Dalton... He had thought she wouldn't be the worst choice for Blaine, had expected that he could at least be reasonably happy with her. But today, Kurt had to change his opinion on the lady. Every time he passed their table, Lady Quinn had a hand on Blaine's arm, or even her own arm looped through his. Once, she was sipping from Blaine's cup, some other time she offered something from her plate, and in general she was throwing herself at him as if she was hoping to get paid for it. But all Kurt could do was to glare at her, wishing he could set her on fire with his eyes.

It didn't work.

Blaine seemed too distracted to pay much attention to her. His eyes were on his plate or his glass, and on occasion he looked up to the young nobleman opposite of him, clearly embarrassed by Quinn's behavior. The other young noble seemed quite amused by what was happening. Kurt could see him say something, that made Blaine blush violently.

Kurt stopped for a moment at the sight of it, which apparently caught the other noble's eyes, as a second later, he waved for Kurt. Curiously, he stepped closer, but then he saw the young man raise his almost empty glass.

Kurt filled it up, trying to keep his eyes on what he was doing instead of looking up.

“For him as well,” the noble said and pointed to Blaine's glass. “Not for the lady, though, she'll stick to water.”

“I don't think it's any of your business what I'm drinking, Lord Smythe,” Lady Quinn said, her voice cold and determined.

Kurt gulped as he filled Blaine's glass as well. For a second, their eyes met. Kurt just so managed not to gasp. Blaine's skin was still flushed, but his face didn't show the easy happiness the other nobles had. It may have not been noticeable for anybody who didn't know him, but to Kurt his discomfort was obvious.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked lowly.

“I'm... yeah, sure,” Blaine said, giving him a shaky smile.

“Hurry up, will you?” the other noble – Smythe – said. “The night is young, the wine is plenty, and we only have so much time to drink it. So hurry up, I mean, what are you getting paid for anyway?”

Kurt clenched his fist to suppress his instinctive reaction. But he knew it wasn't smart to insult a member of the nobility. It wasn't his place.

“Don't be rude, Sebastian.”

Kurt looked up in surprise, only to find Blaine fixing Smythe with a stern look.

“Fine,” Smythe said, rolling his eyes, “if it matters to you. Is he one of yours?”

“He is,” Blaine confirmed, “so don't take this tone with him, please.”

Smythe raised his hands in a gesture of defense. “I didn't mean to offend.”

Blaine shot a look at Kurt, as if to make sure he was okay. Kurt nodded quickly. There was no reason to have a scene right here, but Kurt couldn't help but feel pride that Blaine was defending him. Of course, at that he could feel the eyes of Smythe as well as of Lady Quinn on him, appraising him as if to figure out why Blaine would care about a mere servant. Lady Quinn seemed suspicious, but in Smythe's eyes, there was still a silent taunt.

With a bow, Kurt stepped away from the table. But he decided to keep a closer eye on the table, except now he didn't focus on Lady Quinn and how annoyingly clingy she was towards Blaine. Now his eyes were more focused on Blaine himself, and of course on Smythe, who kept talking at Blaine, who in turn still looked flushed. Kurt started to wonder if Blaine wasn't just uncomfortable because of Lady Quinn, but because of whatever Smythe was saying.

He also couldn't help but notice that Blaine wasn't exactly careful with the wine. As Kurt walked between the tables he could see how Smythe kept waving at servants to refill Blaine's glass. He was starting to worry. At Dalton, Earl Anderson took care that not too much wine was consumed. Blaine wasn't used to this, and Smythe seemed to be determined to get him completely drunk. It concerned Kurt enough to stay close, which also helped him overhear more of the young nobles' conversation.

“Rumor has it that there are happy news for the two of you,” Smythe said.

Blaine almost choked on his wine.

“You hear a lot, Sebastian,” Quinn said, “but yes, our father's have come to an agreement, and there will be another feast very soon.” With a radiant smile, she took Blaine's hand and squeezed it shortly. “Of course, it's not official yet, we wouldn't want to take any shine from the royal couple.”

“The feast won't be that soon, of course,” Smythe said, taking a sip from his glass.

“Wait, why?” Blaine asked.

Smythe shrugged. “That's how it goes,” he said, “the contracts have to be drawn, a date has to be found, permission has to be given... it usually takes two to three months.”

“What?” Lady Quinn had paled.

Smythe for some reason took that as an opportunity to let his predatory smile get even wider. “Good thing nobody is on a tight schedule, right?”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked.

“Nothing,” Smythe said, “at least nothing you need to worry about. More wine!” He waved at Kurt impatiently.

With a sigh, Kurt stepped closer. Blaine was frowning, but put his glass to where Kurt had easier access.

Kurt knew what his job was – but he also knew, that he had another duty.

“Don't you think that's been enough wine for now?” he asked softly, hoping that nobody else would hear it.

“I...” Blaine hesitated. “You think so?”

“I think your lord has a good idea on what he can handle,” Smythe said. “Now pour.”

It was more an instinctive reaction than an actual decision, but a moment later, the jug with wine slipped from his hand, pouring the red liquid over the table and onto Smythe's shirt.

“What the hell?!”

Smythe was on his feet so quickly that his chair fell to the ground. Almost the same instant, Blaine had stood up and stepped in front of Kurt.

“Your kitchen rat threw wine at me!”

“It was an accident! And don't call him that!” Blaine sounded just as firm, even in spite of how much wine he had drunk.

For a moment, Smythe's eyes flashed, but then he raised his hands. “Fine, but I believe your servant owes me an apology.” The words were gritted out. Clearly, Smythe had to force himself to speak them.

Blaine threw a look at Kurt, raising an eyebrow in a silent command.

“I'm sorry, M'lord,” Kurt said. He took pride in the fact that his words sounded at least slightly more sincere than Smythe's had.

“Accepted,” Smythe said before sitting down.

Blaine deflated, clearly relieved that the situation hadn't escalated, and sat down as well. Kurt dared to look at the other nobles sitting at the table. They all had noticed, of course, but by now they had turned to whatever conversation they had been involved in before. Only Lady Quinn looked pale, gulping down her water with a shaky hand.

Another wave reminded Kurt that he was here for a duty and he walked over to another table. He would also need to refill the jug of wine. When he came back, he noticed that Smythe had left the table – probably to find clean clothes. Kurt was happy enough about this. There was something about this guy that rubbed him completely the wrong way.

His relief was short lived when he realized that Blaine was missing as well. Kurt looked around to find Brittany, who took great care to stay far away from Lady Santana.

“Where is he?” he hissed once he reached her.

“Who?” Brittany asked.

“ _Blaine_ , of course,” Kurt said, “where did he go?”

“I think he wanted some air,” Brittany said, “and walk off the wine. He's with the weasel lord.”

One didn't need to be fluent in Brittany to know that she was talking about Smythe. Kurt's hand clinched into a fist around the jug he was carrying. He hadn't seen enough from Sebastian Smythe – only enough to know that he wanted Blaine to stay as far away from the creep as possible. But of course, nobody would ask him.

* * *

Blaine figured it had been a good idea to get away from the feast for a while. Under the open sky, the air was at least slightly better, taking a walk was calming him down, and it couldn't be too bad to stay away from the wine for a little while. Back at Dalton, he had been allowed a cup on occasion, but that had almost always been watered down. He wasn't used to so much pure wine, especially not the heavy sorts they were serving at the capital. It slowed him down, and he felt that around Quinn he had to keep his wits together.

Around Sebastian too, for that matter, so maybe it hadn't been his best choice to accept the other noble's invitation to take a walk. He had almost expected Quinn to insist on coming alone, but she had been oddly subdued since the spilling.

Blaine wasn't sure why that was such a big deal, even the red wine hardly showed on Sebastian's clothes anyway.

“Isn't this a fun little party?” Sebastian said. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

“I think I am,” Blaine said. “Although I do feel the wine.”

Sebastian laughed. It sounded carefree, and almost happy. It didn't fit well to the burst of temper from earlier, but maybe Blaine had just judged that too harshly. It probably had only been the shock, and he had worried for nothing.

“I don't think your lady likes me very much,” Sebastian said. “A pity... and here I'd hoped I'd get to see more of you in the future.”

“She's not my lady yet,” Blaine said. “You said yourself it will take months until she is.”

“It should,” Sebastian said. “Though here's a piece of advice – when you're around her, you might try to look a bit less relieved about it.”

“I'm not relieved,” Blaine protested.

“Of course you are,” Sebastian replied, “don't try to fool me, killer. I'm a master player. You don't want to marry Quinn Fabray. I doubt you want to marry anybody. I can tell, because it's how I think about marriage.”

Blaine stopped. “Is it?” he asked. “You keep mentioning your reputation, as if that answers every question.”

Sebastian sighed. “My reputation is so horrible, that every noble feels insulted if I'm offered to their daughter – which is fine with me, because as I said, I don't want to get married. Not to a woman at least.”

“You prefer men, then?” Blaine asked. It was what he had expected. It would explain the way Sebastian was talking to him, and he could imagine how at least some lords would react to even the assumption.

Sebastian just laughed, though. “I fuck men,” he said, “a lot. I'm not keeping it a secret, either, which is probably the main reason why I'm so undesirable.”

Blaine stopped. “You're very open about this,” he said. He hadn't expected anybody to be this frank. He was also curious to hear more about Sebastian's experiences. The only other person like him that he knew was Kurt, who was so completely different from Sebastian... but he couldn't talk about this with Kurt, it was just too complicated.

Sebastian shrugged. “It helps in getting what I want. One thing I realized is, you can't be coy about this. Otherwise you dance around the subject and never get to the actual fucking.”

“Don't you worry about people finding out?” Blaine asked.

“Didn't you listen? Everybody already knows. It can't get any worse, so why not do what I want? Besides, it's not so bad. It gave me a reputation, now my father can't negotiate a match for me. So what? I didn't want one in the first place. My father can't use me as a bargaining chip, and that's nice too. There are no expectations on me, nothing anybody requires of me... and I'm still a nobleman, commanding my family's wealth and influence. I'm free to do whatever the hell I want. That's more freedom than most will ever experience.”

“It sounds nice,” Blaine said. He tried to imagine what it would be like, to have no expectations on him, to be able to do what he really wanted. He wouldn't have to get married, wouldn't have to hide his feelings... he wouldn't have had to break Kurt's heart...

“It is nice, in a way,” Sebastian said. “But honestly? It's not perfect, either.”

“It's freedom.”

“And I'll always be a disappointment to the family,” Sebastian said. “I can entertain myself with pretty boys, but at the end of the day, I send them on their way, and I'm on my own again. Then there's the way my parents look at me. My father just wants to get rid of me. I think by now he doesn't care how, he'd even pawn me off into a union just to be rid of me. So far he hasn't considered assassins, but I'm not sure he wouldn't think of that if I ever went too far. I'm the most hated person in my family, and most other noble families don't trust me. I can live with it, but... I don't know, sometimes it really isn't nice.”

“I figured,” Blaine said. “I don't think I could do what you're doing. I couldn't deal with people despising me like that, and I couldn't disappoint my family.”

“You do want to, though,” Sebastian said.

Blaine closed his eyes, thought back on what Kurt had asked of him. “I do,” he whispered, and for a moment he didn't know whether he was even still talking to Sebastian, “I wish I could, but... I have a duty to my family.”

“Of course you do,” Sebastian said softly, “by all means, do your duty. It doesn't mean you can't have fun on your own time.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You just said it goes together, doing what you want and being a disappointment.”

Sebastian smirked. “For me, sure. But that too was my choice. You don't have to take the same steps I did. The key is discretion. If you keep it a secret, there's no end to what you can do. Of course, if you don't want people to know, you might have to be more careful in your choice of companions.”

Blaine felt the blood rush to his face again. “I'm not even looking for... companions.”

Sebastian stopped and let his eyes wander from Blaine's head to his toes, and back again. Blaine gulped. Nobody had ever looked at him like this, calculating and... hungry. And then, Sebastian was actually licking his lips.

“That's a shame,” Sebastian said. “The things you could do with that body of yours...”

Blaine was aware that his mouth was open, but he couldn't grasp the words he was looking for. “I... I think we should go back to the feast,” he managed eventually.

Sebastian's smirk reminded him of a wolf. “As you wish.”

Blaine smiled, trying to seem calmer than he felt. It failed, of course, when he turned to walk, missed a step and might have fallen, if Sebastian hadn't taken hold of his waist.

“Thanks,” he muttered and stepped away from Sebastian. He closed his eyes and tried to focus for a few moments. He took a deep breath, tried to calm down enough to think clearly. The wine was too strong, and really, so was Sebastian.

By the time they had returned to the landscape of tents that had been built for the wedding feast, Blaine's step was surer at least, but his thoughts were still a mess. It didn't help that from time to time, Sebastian put a hand on him, his back, his shoulder, his waist...

Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe for some reason, Sebastian was trying to keep him in a state of nervousness. Those touches at least were deliberate, even if Blaine wasn't sure what their purpose was.

“Are you actually ready to get back in there?” Sebastian asked when they had reached the tents. “I'm sure Lady Quinn has missed you.”

“She probably has,” Blaine said, and he couldn't say that he was particularly happy with it. It actually was nicer out here in the open air, even with Sebastian's exasperating presence.

“Or we could have a look at something else first,” Sebastian said.

“What would that be?”

That wolfish smirk, again. “A surprise. Trust me.”

Blaine knew he shouldn't. There was a memory of a fairy tale, warning of danger and of not trusting people smiling like wolves. There were his own instincts, telling him that he shouldn't be here – not at the feast, surrounded by his peers, and especially not around Sebastian. He definitely knew that he couldn't trust his peers.

He had followed every rule, every day of his life. And where had it gotten him? His father could use him but still didn't care about him. He had hurt and lost the closest friend he'd ever had. He still had to marry someone he couldn't possibly love.

And on the other hand, there was Sebastian, who was free to do as he pleased, who could have anything he wanted. Just a little disobedience, just a little bit of carelessness...

“Alright – show me.”

* * *

It wasn't that unusual for some of the guests to disappear, not even for longer periods of time. The close gathering of so many people created a thick, oppressive air, even ignoring the smoke of pipes especially from the corner of the older, southern lords. There was nothing wrong or suspicious about leaving the feast to catch some fresh air. And Kurt wouldn't have worried, if Blaine had left, even if it was for such a long time – if he had left alone.

There was something about Lord Smythe that Kurt didn't like. Unfortunately, his best source was Brittany, and all she could give him were animal metaphors, that he thought meant that Lord Smythe was a shark-dolphin-weasel-rat. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it matched his impression that Smythe was not to be trusted.

His eyes fell on the other person at the table he wished would disappear in a hole in the ground. Lady Fabray was currently talking to an older man that Kurt assumed was her father. She didn't seem too pleased at the moment, but her father was gesturing as if to calm her down. Eventually, he nodded and left to return to the table he and the other lords, including Earl Anderson were sitting.

Lady Quinn sighed, and for a moment Kurt thought he could see behind her perfect facade. As she looked up, their eyes met, and after a moment of hesitation, she waved him closer.

“M'lady,” he said with a bow and lifted the jug to refill her glass, but she stopped him.

“Water, please,” she said. “You're from Dalton, aren't you?”

“Yes, M'lady,” Kurt said.

“Have you got any idea where I can find your Lord?”

Kurt sighed. He wished he had a better answer than he did. “I'm sorry, M'lady, I didn't see where he went. But I'm sure he will be back soon.”

She sighed. “Well, this will have to be enough then.”

Kurt hesitated, long enough for her to notice.

“Yes? Speak freely,” she said.

“He's a good person,” Kurt said, “a truly good person. You won't have to worry. He's kind, and compassionate, and... he's not going to hurt you, M'lady.” He didn't want this marriage, and he knew that Blaine didn't want it either. But Kurt had enough empathy to know that the situation couldn't be ideal for Quinn either. She too, would be thrown into a strange situation, and she would be given completely into the control of another person. It had to be scary, and as annoying as she seemed, she didn't deserve that. And who knew, maybe this was her strategy to endear herself to her future husband.

“He does seem like a very decent person,” Quinn said, nodding. “I'm not afraid. I don't think I could have found someone better.” She shook her head. “It doesn't matter. Thank you, though... what was your name?”

Kurt blinked, surprised at the question. “It's Kurt,” he said and bowed.

“Thank you, Kurt,” Quinn said, and gave him a genuine smile. “I'm sure we'll get along well in the future. Now, I hope your lord will return soon, the conversation here has gone a bit stale...”

Kurt found himself nodding. He hoped, too, that Blaine would be back soon. What on earth was he doing so long?

* * *

Blaine's body felt as if it was burning – a slow fire spreading through his veins, and focusing in sparks on the spots where Sebastian's hands roamed over his skin. His shirt had come loose and ridden up, the front was already opened enough for Sebastian to lick and bite over his clavicles, slowly descending.

What were they doing?

He hadn't had many illusions that Sebastian had planned to actually show him a place, but he hadn't expected ending up in one of the shacks around the tents that were used to storage the drinks for the feast. There wasn't much space here. The second the door had closed behind him, he had been pushed up against the barrels, hot lips pushing against his, and then...

Well, then he wasn't quite sure how he got in the position he was in now, lying on the ground with Sebastian on top of him, trying to push his shirt out of the way as much as was possible without actually taking it off.

It felt...He couldn't describe what it felt like. At first, it hadn't felt right. The kiss was too rough, too much clashing of teeth, the way Sebastian's tongue had pushed into his mouth, and it had felt... not as he had expected it to. Not wrong, exactly...

But Sebastian hadn't left it at a kiss. There had been hands, and biting, and he hadn't even known he'd like that. Really, though, how could he have known? He had never been with anyone, had never been touched by another person – well, not like this. He hadn't even been kissed until two days ago...

The memory went through him like a blade of ice, and for a second he wanted to stop, to cool down, so he could get a chance to get his head clear.

But then, Sebastian rolled his hips, and fuck, even through the layers of their clothing, he could feel the other boy hard against him. Blaine gasped, and then Sebastian was kissing him again, and now it didn't even matter if the kiss didn't feel right, he just needed more, and...

The door opened with a crash.

Blaine pushed against Sebastian's torso, tried to sit up and get away from him. It was pointless, of course, there was no way that this scene could look like anything but what it really was. Sebastian rolled off him, and Blaine caught his expression – not the shock he was sure was clear on his own face, but instead annoyance.

With dread running through him, Blaine looked up to see who had walked in on them, to see in just how much trouble he was.

In the door, there was the imposing figure of Lord Smythe, Sebastian's father. His eyes were cold, his face filling with anger, but when he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm.

“Well, well, well... isn't this interesting?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, people did *not* like Blaine making out with Sebastian. Well, I didn't really expect them to. I intended for the reaction to be "...what the hell is he doing?" But for some reason, I was still surprised. Therefore, before we go into the next chapter, I'm just asking - try to give him a break? He's confused, scared and drunk, and he has no idea what he's doing, either.

* * *

In this instant, the world stopped. The ground underneath him could have fallen away, he wouldn't have noticed. This had to be what it felt like to be a mouse, staring into the unfeeling grin of a cat. Blaine was pinned under the glare of Lord Smythe's eyes, unable to move even a muscle, and his mind was running in circles, always coming back to the same thought.

No, please, god, no.

He was the only one paralyzed like that. In the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian standing up and smoothing down his hair. Lord Smythe stepped closer, looking at both of them full of disdain. The door behind him closed, putting them back into the muted half-light from before.

Blaine still felt more exposed than he'd ever been.

Oh god, what had he done?

And then, Lord Smythe began to speak. “I don't expect much from you, boy,” he said in Sebastian's direction, “but I thought even you would have learned the meaning of discretion by now. I see that I was mistaken.”

“If you're done ruining my afternoon...” Sebastian sounded as if nothing happened. And really, Blaine began to realize, to him nothing had happened. Everybody knew what Sebastian did, and by now it didn't make a difference. But for Blaine himself... it was different.

“You may call it an afternoon,” Lord Smythe said, “but you're risking a political disaster here. Are you not aware that this boy is about to marry into the king's inner circle? How exactly do you think that is going to work if people find out what he is?”

Suddenly, Blaine remembered where his voice was. “You can't tell anybody. Please, please don't tell.”

Lord Smythe snorted. “That's what you like these days?” he asked his son. “Pathetic...”

“Are you done yet?” Sebastian asked, a sharp edge in his voice. “Nothing even happened. Let's call it our little secret and forget this happened. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is that these things have a way of coming to light, boy!” Lord Smythe's voice didn't rise, but there was venom in it. “And when it will come to light, it will be obvious that you were involved, and how is this going to look to Fabray? Or the king? The right thing to do is clearly to make this public and cast you out – which I should have done years ago, now that I think of it. I believe Earl Anderson will follow my example. It will be such a blow – he'd been sure you'd be incorruptible.”

“Please don't tell my father,” Blaine said. “I promise, nothing will happen ever again. I won't... I'm not going to do anything, nobody will find out.”

“Oh, relax, he's not going to tell anyone,” Sebastian said. “He doesn't care about what's right, he's thinking about what's politically smart. If you marry Quinn, you'll end up Fabray's heir eventually – and he'll always have some nice blackmail material at hand. He gains nothing from telling people. You're safe.”

If anything, Lord Smythe looked even angrier. “You know everything, don't you, boy?”

“Am I wrong?”

For a moment, Blaine could only sit on the floor, shaking, as he waited for what felt like a verdict. He couldn't even breathe as he waited for Lord Smythe to speak.

“You do have a point,” he said eventually, “but I have yet to make a decision.” He shot another disdainful look at Blaine before he continued. “I will discuss things with my son. Just get out of my sight.”

Still shaking, Blaine got to his feet. He cast a glance at Sebastian, who looked thoroughly bored with the proceedings, then hurried out of the shack. He stumbled, almost fell, as he passed Lord Smythe.

The man turned to him and looked at him as if he were an insect. “Your father will be so disappointed, a whore for a son... You and Quinn really  _are_ a good match.”

Blaine didn't know what it meant, could hardly understand the words, as he stumbled outside. The air felt cold on his skin and in his lungs, and the light was so bright that he had to close his eyes for a moment. But his feet were still moving. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get away from here. As his feet moved, he was still shaking, unable to calm down. His head was spinning, and the sweat on his skin had turned cold.

What had he been thinking?

What exactly had gone wrong in his head that he had thought it could possibly be a good idea for him to follow Sebastian into that shack?

It hadn't seemed like a smart idea, it had felt more like fulfilling a dare. In the moment, it had been exhilarating. Now, that he thought back? When he closed his eyes, he could feel Sebastian's hands on him, and whereas the fire before had felt amazing, now it made him think more of the cold fire of purgatory. Shame was pulsing through his veins. For Sebastian, this was apparently a regular afternoon, and he seemed to be fine with it.

Blaine though felt... horrible, and guilty, but also confused. Why would it even feel like that? It had felt nothing like that when Kurt had kissed him.

Oh god, Kurt.

A new wave of shame rushed through him, and he suddenly had to stop or he was going to be sick.

He looked around to see just where he was. He was still close to the tents, although he was now at the opposite end of them. He leaned against one of the wooden pillars and tried to calm down.

For a few minutes, he was just breathing, trying not to throw up. Eventually, his thoughts slowed down and he felt a bit calmer. It had been a mistake, yes, but it had happened and he couldn't take it back. What could he do, then? Was there even anything that he could do?

He could stay away from Sebastian for the rest of his stay in the capital. He could make sure not to get on Lord Smythe's bad side. There wasn't anything he could do about Lord Smythe possibly telling anybody – he'd have to rely on the fact that telling wouldn’t benefit the lord in any way. For now, he would have to return to the feast and hope to look as normal as possible.

It took a few more minutes until he was breathing evenly again, although his heart was still beating up to his throat. He still needed longer until he was sure that he wouldn't throw up as soon as he moved. The first thing he did was to get his clothes back in order. His hair was a lost cause, of course, so he found a bowl of water and splashed it, before he combed it into submission with his hands. For a few moments at least, he could focus on that instead of his thoughts and feelings. And then...

Then he had to put on a smile. As Cooper loved to say, the show would have to go on.

Somehow, he managed to walk back to the feast, his head held up high and hardly shaking. He shouldn't look different, maybe a bit out of it, but he should be able to blame that on the wine. It should be alright, but still, he felt as if it was written across his face what he had done, what he had let happen...

His facade only held until he found the place at his table again Quinn was sitting there, greeting him with soft affection.

“Did you have a good walk?” she asked.

Blaine managed a shaky smile. “It was fine,” he said, “I really needed some air.” Even to himself, his voice sounded strange. With shaking fingers, he found his glass to take a sip, only to find that it was still filled with wine. It was too heavy, and it tasted sour on his tongue – just another reminder of how he lost control.

Something about the disgust he felt must have shown in his face, because suddenly, the glass was taken out of his hand and replaced with another one, filled with fresh, clear water.

“Try this,” Quinn said, a frown on her pale face.

Gratefully, Blaine gulped it down. It helped washing out Sebastian's taste, but of course that only reminded him why he had that taste in his mouth in the first place.

Quinn was watching him with concern, clearly not fooled by his attempts of looking normal. Quinn, his fiancée. He should feel guilty, technically he had cheated on her. Of course, he didn't love her, she certainly didn't love him either. There was no emotional investment...

Kurt was a different story. There may be no claim between them – he had made sure of that himself when he had rejected the other boy – but that didn't stop Blaine from feeling the guilt he should have felt for Quinn. He shouldn't, really, he had told Kurt that they couldn't be together, that he couldn't risk it.

Kurt, who had held him with care, and kissed him with ardor. Kurt, to whom he meant something beyond being another warm body. Then, he had felt warm, safe, happy. With Sebastian, he had been overwhelmed by lust, but now? He probably would feel just as dirty if Lord Smythe hadn't walked in on them.

“Blaine?” It was Quinn's voice again, soft and insistent. “Is everything alright?”

“I'm fine,” he said, “I'm just not used to the wine.” He prayed silently that she would believe him.

“I can see that,” she said, “I was actually impressed you managed not to fall over on the way here.”

“That bad?” Blaine asked. It was a bit of a surprise. He knew that he had had too much wine, but he hadn't thought it had been this obvious.

Instead of an answer, Quinn took his glass and let the wine spill onto the ground. She waved then for one of the servants. At first, he was relieved at the prospect of having more water. But then he remembered Kurt was among the servers, and god, he wasn't ready to face him, not yet. How could he look into Kurt's eyes, who had laid everything bare to him, whom he had rejected in order to be a good son? And now, he had thrown it all away, and for what? A whim? A spur of the moment? Too much wine?

Someone stepped beside him, and he didn't need to look up to know it was Kurt. He kept his eyes trained on his hands that were shaking – again, or maybe they'd never stopped, he didn't even know.

He expected Quinn to request more water for him, but she surprised him when she spoke. “Your lord isn't feeling well, maybe you should take him to his quarters.”

Blaine looked up in surprise at this, and his and Kurt's eyes met. For a moment, Blaine was sure that Kurt could see right through him, would immediately know what he had been doing with Sebastian, and probably be disgusted by him. But there was only concern in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice soft.

How on earth could he even begin to answer that?

“I'm afraid he's not so used to the capitol's wine,” Quinn said, “but with enough sleep and lots of water, he should feel fine by tomorrow. It would be best if you got him to your quarters and put him to bed, then hurry back here.”

In that moment, Blaine was grateful to her. She took control of the situation, and gave him an opportunity to leave. By tomorrow, he could get a grip on himself, and maybe things would look better once he slept over them. Anything was better than staying here at least.

She smiled at him. “I hope you feel better soon, Blaine.”

Even as he thanked her, he felt Kurt helping him to his feet. For a moment, the dizziness returned, but Kurt was there, an arm around his waist stabilizing him as they walked way from the table. It felt warm, secure. Any other day, it would have calmed him down. Today, it almost made him feel worse.

Dusk was already falling, when they returned to their quarters. There was nobody there. All the servants were still working, and his family was still at the feast. Blaine was silent as Kurt stayed and put him to bed, didn't speak either, when he other boy left with a soft “good night”. He just pulled the blanket around him like a second skin and hoped that sleep would come soon.

All he wanted was to close his eyes, fall asleep and forget everything about this day – forget Sebastian, and how his skin had burnt under his touch, forget Quinn and his betrothal, forget his family, forget everything.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he wished for someone to make sense of everything. He wanted to find Kurt, fall to his knees in front of the boy and tell him everything, what had happened with Sebastian, how sorry he was, how different it had felt from that single kiss he and Kurt had shared. He probably shouldn't say a thing, because what good could there come from it for Kurt? Blaine just wished that he could somehow make things alright between them. He should say something, but what?

Things with Sebastian had gone further than the kiss he had shared with Kurt. It should have been more intense. But when he looked back on today, it felt him with shame. That single kiss, on the other hand, had felt completely different, like a connection between them. So completely different...

If he could just talk to Kurt, and maybe manage to say what he really thought... maybe then he could make sense of what was going on in his mind...

So of course, he was grateful, when Kurt returned to him, to comfort him to make him feel good. There were cool hands stroking over Blaine's face, then his throat, to his chest, spreading the fabric of his shirt to reveal more skin. And then there were lips, trailing from his lips down to his throat. The kisses were soft, the hands reached his sides, and he felt the swelling of breasts pushing against his chest.

Wait, what?

Blaine opened his eyes, even as his hands shot up to hold the person above him at a distance. It took him a while to get used to the darkness, but from the lights outside he could see pale skin, and long blond hair.

“Quinn?!”

“Shh,” she whispered, bowing forward again and pressing kisses against his cheek. “I figured you could need some comfort.”

“You shouldn't be here,” Blaine hissed.

Quinn didn't seem to care, pushing her body against his in what he was sure was a sensual motion. But all he could think of was that this was not who he wanted, could never be who he wanted, and she would know, she would feel it, and then what?

“It will be our secret,” Quinn breathed into his ear.

It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, or maybe it was the only thing he could do in this situation. He pushed her away, and scrambled out of the bed, almost tripping over the blanket.

Quinn was looking up at him, confused and bewildered, her blond hair wild, her silk dress half open and messed up. Blaine was sure, most young men couldn't have turned away from that sight, but... it didn't do anything for him, not that he had needed any other confirmation. He wasn't sure how he would survive his wedding night. But she couldn't know, not yet, not like this...

“I'm sorry, Lady Quinn, but we can't,” Blaine said. “Please return to your rooms. It's not right.”

“Don't you want me?” Quinn asked, her voice soft and more vulnerable than he'd ever heard her.

Blaine bit his lips. It wasn't fair to lie to her, to keep her in the dark – but he couldn't tell her the truth. “I'm sorry, but it's not decent. There'll be enough time for this after the wedding.”

“But-”

He couldn't stand it, the way she looked at him, almost desperate now. He turned away, fleeing the room. He wasn't even sure where he was going, but he couldn't stay.

* * *

“Isn't this a beautiful sight, boy? Tell me what you think about it.”

Sebastian groaned as he looked down. His father hadn't taken him far away, just to one of the bridges leading from the royal keep into the city. It was high, but there wasn't much to see, except the cleaned up capital. He was quite sure that there were better views. He was also sure, that his father didn't actually care about the view, but rather for something to pontificate about. Lord Smythe was very much into speeches.

“It's high up, too, maybe the highest drop in the capital,” his father continued. “They say that if somebody was pushed down from the bridge, they'd be dead before they hit the ground.”

Sebastian snorted. “Threatening to kill me, father? Is it that time of the month again?”

The serene expression on his father's face morphed into rage. “Don't think for a second I wouldn't do it,” he growled. “If I throw you down this bridge, or have you poisoned at home, or just maybe arrange an accident when you're out hunting... it's in my power, and don't believe that anybody would give a damn. Your mother even sometimes wishes that fever had taken you when you were still a child. You're nothing but a burden on this family, but we carry you, even if you don't deserve it. I've even given up on you not embarrassing my name. That's a lost cause. But you will not come in between my plans, do you hear me?”

It wasn't as if any of hat was something new, but Sebastian still felt his temper rise. “Why do you care about him anyway?”

“I've put a lot of work into the Anderson-Fabray match, you are not going to endanger it!” Lord Smythe shouted. “Fabray has paid a lot for this, and I can use Anderson in my back pocket. But no, you have to go and risk it. Even Fabray won't be desperate enough to go through with this match if the Anderson boy is revealed to be a deviant. Then there's no way to get Dalton into the fold, the king will be furious, and whose fault will it be? Yours, and therefore mine. You are ruining this family, and why? Just because you can't be bothered to make a better choice of your whore!”

“He's not a whore!”

Lord Smythe's eyebrows went up, his face the perfect picture of surprise, and for once, Sebastian could actually believe it was genuine. But right now, he was too surprised himself about his outburst. He didn't yell at his father, didn't go further than sarcastic comments. But now, he couldn't have kept quiet. It was Blaine Anderson, of course, he and his wide hazel eyes, those damn lips, the way he talked about his future, worried and uncertain, and through all the worry still the most gorgeous boy Sebastian had ever seen. Blaine Anderson, beautiful and innocent, and probably never even touched before today...

“Excuse me?” his father asked.

Sebastian shook his head, trying to regain his equilibrium. “He's not a whore,” he repeated calmer, “trust me, he doesn't have the experience of one.” Even this attempt of sounding light-hearted was in vain, so he continued. “And nobody has to know! I won't tell anybody, neither will he. I don't think he even looked at a man before, much less did anything. It's just the two of us and him who know. There's no danger to your precious plans, so leave him out of this!”

His father seemed to see right through it, too. He stared at his son, and Sebastian could have sworn he could actually see how his brain started scheming again.

“You _like_ this one,” Lord Smythe said, amazement in his voice. “You actually like him.”

“So what if I do?” Sebastian asked. He hated how defensive he sounded. What was so special about liking someone anyway? He'd liked other boys – boys he got way further with than he had gotten with Blaine before his father interrupted. Of course, he wouldn't have hesitated to call any of them a whore, and once they were out of sight, he didn't have it in him to care about them. Blaine Anderson on the other hand was very hard to forget.

Did he like Blaine? And why should it matter?

But Lord Smythe still looked at him with wonder, and something else that he didn't recognize.

“What if you do, indeed...” he said, his voice trailing off. “I hadn't thought I'd see the day. But I think...”

Sebastian frowned. “You think what?”

Lord Smythe was still smiling, but now it was a smile that Sebastian was used to – scheming, and shrewd, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

“I think I can work with that.”

* * *

Kurt tried to keep himself busy with cleaning. It wasn't even his task, and it could definitely wait till after the feast, but right now, he was here, he was on his own, and he desperately needed to calm his thoughts.

What had happened today?

Blaine had seemed fine in the morning, even if not too thrilled about his betrothal, but he had been fine. But the longer the day had gone on, the worse his state had gotten, and it couldn't just be the wine. And then, leaving with that weasel-faced Smythe... Kurt knew that something must have happened, there could be no other explanation for how... distressed Blaine had looked when he had returned. He had also been shaking all the way back to their quarters, no matter how hard he had tried to look unaffected. And of course, Kurt had seen the marks around Blaine's clavicles when he'd helped the young lord change. Love bites, and Kurt had a pretty good idea on who had caused them...

He should probably go back to the feast, but he couldn't. Not while Blaine was still this upset, and not while his own thoughts were such a mess. He doubted anybody would miss him at the feast anyway.

He had known Smythe was trouble, it was just a surprise that Blaine hadn't seen it. But what had happened? Just from the marks, Kurt would have thought that there had been some making out. It hurt to even think about it. He knew that he and Blaine weren't together, but it didn't change that he had feelings for the young lord, and even imagining him with anyone, especially someone like Smythe, was painful. But even as he felt hurt, his mind contiued to try and figure out just what was going on with Blaine. If it had just been some sort of tryst, he wouldn't have been this upset. Besides, the young lord was so clearly intoxicated... at the very least, he would regret whatever had happened once he was sober again. From the way he acted, he already regretted it now...

Kurt wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sound of footsteps tore him out of his thoughts. The sound was soft, clearly not the sound of someone wearing shoes, and it was fast, as if whoever it was, was hurrying. Kurt quickly stepped out of the servant quarters to see what it was. His first thought was again of Blaine. Was he feeling sick?

It was indeed the young lord he met in the corridor. Kurt's heart sank. Blaine seemed to be in an even worse state than he had been at the feast, his eyes wide and his hands shaking, topped off with his hair now mussed up by sleep. He stopped, when he saw Kurt standing in front of him.

“Kurt? You... you're still here?” he asked, his voice somewhere between confused and hopeful.

“I didn't want you to be alone,” Kurt said as he came closer. “Are you okay?”

“I...” Blaine looked away, as if he had to think about the question. “I'm not sure, I'm... Did you see her?”

Kurt frowned. “See who?”

“Quinn. She... she was in my room,” Blaine said.

“That's strange,” Kurt said. Maybe the lady had been worried, but then she probably would have asked about Blaine, not just went into his room. “Maybe she wanted to check on you?”

“She climbed in my bed, Kurt,” Blaine said harshly. “What do you think she was going to check?”

Kurt couldn't help but blush. He was  _not_ going to answer that. “Into your bed?” he repeated instead.

Blaine nodded, a shudder running through him.

Kurt could hear another set of footsteps. On instinct, he grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him into the servants' quarter and closed the door behind them. It was almost scary how easily Blaine came along. The young lord just let himself be dragged inside and sank to the floor, his back to a wall.

Kurt knelt down in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, what he was allowed to do, or what he should do in order to comfort his... friend, or at least that was the word he settled for.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said. His voice sounded raw and hurt and just exhausted. “I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm so sorry...”

“What on earth would you be sorry for?” Kurt asked. “i don't think you invited her to your bed.” And really, Kurt had no right to expect an apology for Blaine not wanting to run away with him, or for whatever Blaine had done with Sebastian today.

Blaine shook his head. “I just... I think I'm making a mess of everything today. Or not just today, not with you, and I'm sorry. I don't know how everything got so messed up...” He sighed. “I don't know what's with today...”

Kurt frowned. “This isn't just about Lady Quinn, is it?”

Blaine shook his head again. “It's everything,” he said, “Quinn, and my father, and Sebastian, and you... I just wish it could all go away...”

“Do you want me to go away, too?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine's head shot up immediately. “No! I don't... I didn't mean... I don't want you to go away, Kurt, I never want that. It's just that it's so complicated. I wish it wasn't...”

“Blaine, it's okay,” he said. “I'm just a little lost here. Is there anything I can do?”

Blaine was avoiding his eyes, so Kurt put a hand to his cheek to make the young lord look at him.

“Anything?” he repeated. It was stupid, putting himself out there like this again, but this second he meant it He would do anything now.

But Blaine only slumped into himself. Some resistance inside him seemed to just give away. “Hold me,” he whispered. “Please.”

A tiny part of Kurt's heart broke at the tone of his voice. Quickly, he pulled Blaine into his arms to hold him as close as he could. He let his hand roam through the young lord's hair, and let the other hand draw circles over his back.

Blaine was clutching at his back, pressing his face so hard into Kurt's shoulder as if he wanted to bury it there. His breath came ragged, loud and harsh. It almost sounded like sobbing.

“Blaine... it's okay, I've got you... It's going to be okay...”

Blaine shook his head against Kurt's shoulder, but it still took him moments that felt like ages before he said something.

“I'm scared.”

Kurt frowned. “Scared?” he repeated. “Of Quinn?”

“Of my father. What if he'll find out?”

Kurt held him tighter, hoping that it would help calm the young lord. “He won't find out.”

There was silence for a moment.. “He might,” Blaine said eventually. “I did something stupid, I...” He stopped, avoiding Kurt's eyes. “I did something really bad, Kurt.”

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was sure to come. There'd be a confession, one he didn't need to hear, but one that Blaine in his drunken state needed to make.

“I... When I went with Sebastian... He took me to one of the supply shacks. And he... we... He kissed me, and I... I didn't stop him. I should have, but at that moment, I just couldn't. And I'm so sorry, Kurt, I shouldn't have, but he...”

“Did you lie with him?” Kurt interrupted.

Blaine's eyes were wide, but he shook his head.

Kurt felt at least a little bit of relief wash over him. Still, when he spoke, it cost all of his self-control to sound calm. “You don't have to apologize to me,” he said, “I don't have a claim on you, remember? Your fiancée on the other hand...”

Blaine looked at him full of confusion, and maybe a little bit of hurt. “Aren't you bothered at all?” he asked.

Of course he was bothered, but what difference would it make? So he stuck to the lie. “I just want to make sure that you weren't hurt,” he said instead.

Blaine was still hesitating, but he spoke again. “I wasn't... but it was a mistake, and I think I owe you an apology.”

“You don't,” Kurt said, “and don't tell me that is everything that you're so upset about. What else happened?”

Blaine blinked, and even in the little light Kurt could see that his eyes were wet.

“Lord Smythe saw us,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper, “and he could tell my father. I don't know if he will. And if my father finds out...” He shuddered. “I don't know what to do. I don't know what he would do... He'll throw me out on the streets or something... And then what will I do?”

“You'll still have me,” Kurt said. “And you can figure out anything else when you have to. Cross that bridge when you get to it.”

“More like jump off it when I get to it,” Blaine muttered.

Kurt smiled. “See? At least your sense of humor has survived.”

Blaine snorted, but it felt as if he was calming down. Kurt, too, felt calmer now. It was enough of a bad situation, even if Kurt had to filter out the image of Blaine with that snake, and also a dangerous situation. But it still held true, they'd cross that bridge when they would get to it. At least the fear he'd had, that Blaine might have gotten hurt, hadn't been justified.

Eventually, Blaine moved away and Kurt let him slide backwards, until they faced each other again.

“Will I though?” Blaine asked softly.

“Will you what?” Kurt looked at him in confusion.

“Will I have you,” Blaine said. His voice was soft and hopeful.

Kurt gulped. What happened to his decision a lifetime ago not to get in too deep with Blaine? But it was way too late for that now, anyway. “I'll always be here for you,” he said, “I'll be your friend no matter what happens, and I'll stand right behind you, no matter what life will throw at you.”

Blaine blinked rapidly, as if he was tearing up. “So if my father kicks me out tomorrow...?”

“Then I'll smuggle out some of your clothes, and then we'll run away to Lima,” Kurt said.

A shaky smile appeared on Blaine's face. “And if he doesn't?”

“Then I'll stay at Dalton and make sure you get the best food possible,” Kurt said.

Blaine frowned. “I won't stay at Dalton, though,” he said. “My father told me, I would go south with Quinn to the Fabray estate.” He hesitated, before he continued. “I'd be allowed to take a few servants with me, though...”

Kurt felt a cold grip around his heart. He knew what Blaine was about to ask, and he knew what he had just promised.

“Would you come with me?” Blaine asked.

Kurt wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea. He wasn't exactly looking forward to watch Blaine married to Quinn Fabray. But this did change things. Blaine would be not only miserable, but also alone, far away from his family. And if Kurt would hate watching them, how hard would it be for Blaine to live it?

“I'll come with you,” Kurt said. “I won't leave you on your own.”

Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief, and before Kurt could even properly take in his smile, he had his arms full with the young lord again.

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered into his ears, “and I'm sorry. It's just... I hate this day.”

Kurt hummed. “Me too,” he said, “but it's over now. The day is over. It's okay. I've got you.”

Blaine sank back into his arms, sagging with relief. Kurt tried not to think of Smythe touching him, or of Quinn Fabray getting her hands on him, and to just focus on the boy in his arms. It wasn't how he had imagined holding him in an embrace, but it was all he got.

It wasn’t enough, though. Kurt knew it could never be enough. These feelings were just to painful. Howver, it was also just as clear to him that he couldn't abandon Blaine when he was devastated like that. His heart wouldn't allow it.

But now, holding Blaine, as he tried not to think of whatever happened today, Kurt started to wonder for how much longer his heart was going to take this. He was getting tired of it. When would he finally learn and move on?

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a wonderful, idyllic and completely harmonic chapter you're about to read.
> 
> Warning that people (parents) aren't exactly nice in this chapter, leading to some verbal and a bit of physical abuse. But hey, the family relations here are still healthier than those on Game of Thrones.

* * *

When Blaine woke up, he was actually surprised at how not horrible he felt.

All through the night he had woken up several times, and each time had been worse. He could actually tell when the alcohol left his body and the hangover started to set in.

As the light filtered through the curtains, he managed to sit up – slowly, as to not upset his stomach. There was a jar of water and a wooden cup beside it. Carefully, Blaine poured some and drank carefully.

It wasn't that he was feeling well. His head was throbbing, not unbearably but noticeably. The light was too bright, and if he moved too much or too fast, he felt dizzy and sick. Despite sleeping all through the night and into the later morning hours, he still felt exhausted.

One thing he knew for sure – he was never going to touch wine again.

After emptying the cup of water, Blaine sank back into the pillows again. The moment he stopped focusing on his physical symptoms, his mind was rearing up. He realized that he had been upset about something, but it took a while until he remembered what it was. Closing his eyes, he could recall the touch of lips against his skin, but the memory was connected not to excitement or happiness, but regret and shame. The more he thought, the more he remembered scenes that didn't seem to go together. Sebastian kissing him, Quinn touching him, and Kurt...

No, Kurt hadn't kissed or touched him. Kurt had taken care of him, probably also left the water for him. As Blaine looked more carefully, he could see something else beside the jar of water. He recognized it as a piece of willow bark. Kurt had told him that his stepmother used it to soothe different kinds of pain. He also knew that it tasted horrible, but if it would take away the headache, he was willing to deal with it.

As he chewed it and the bitter taste filled his mouth, he calmed down enough to think. Yesterday, it had all been a mess of alcohol, touching and panic. Now, with the alcohol out of his system and a safe distance to anybody trying to get him out of his clothes, he could push down the fear long enough to actually analyze how bad his situation was. In the daylight, it didn't look this horrible anymore. Not that it wasn't still a mess, but it didn't seem as paralyzing as it had the day before.

The most dangerous part of his situation was Lord Smythe. If he told anyone – especially Blaine's father – than he'd be ruined. Sebastian may have had the luck of his father at least tolerating his way of life, but Blaine had no illusions about his own family. If he not only turned out to prefer men but also to hurt the Earl's chances at rising into the king's good graces, there'd be no pardon for him. His father would cast him out in a heart beat.

But he had no influence on Lord Smythe's decision on whether to tell or not. And while he had been in foll-blown panic mode at the time, he could now recall at least the gist of what Sebastian had said. Lord Smythe had been an important factor in the betrothal to Quinn, what interest could he possibly have in ruining it? For now, all Blaine could do would hope that this wouldn't change – and be very careful not to cross Lord Smythe in any way. That shouldn't be too hard, he had no idea how he even could stand in the way of someone this influential.

Once he had calmed down about this, Blaine was calmer already. It might also help that he started to feel the first effects of the willow bark – even though he was surprised that the taste didn't make him throw up. He felt a surge of gratitude for Kurt, for who else could have put that bark there?

Kurt...

No. He'd have to think about Kurt, too, it was impossible to think about this whole mess without thinking of him, but it was not time yet. One step after the other.

The next thing he needed to worry about was Quinn. He didn't quite remember what had happened, just that she had climbed into his bed that night and that he had basically run away from her. It didn't make sense. He tried to think back if he'd given her any indication to think that he wanted her to visit him. Yes, she had been happy about the match, but Blaine hadn't gotten the impression that the lady was completely in love with him. Even if she was, why not wait a few more months until the wedding? No, her behavior made no sense to him.

Did it matter though? He might never find out about her motives, and whatever they were, they didn't change anything. What did matter was that he made sure she didn't suspect why he hadn't been interested. He should be able to tell her a convincing story. Maybe that he had been too afraid of her getting pregnant before the wedding. He would figure something out.

So where did this leave him? His father probably wouldn't find out. He could do damage reduction with Quinn.

And then there was that completely other mess, Sebastian.

Blaine still didn't know what he had been thinking. It had felt good at the time, but looking back, Blaine knew it had been a mistake. Well, he had known that yesterday already but some points were worth repeating.

Yesterday, he hadn't been able to grasp just why it had felt the way it had – or rather, why it had lacked feeling. It certainly wasn't for a lack of attraction. Just comparing Sebastian's touches with Quinn's told him that he was clearly attracted to men, and he couldn't deny that he felt attracted to Sebastian himself. But when he compared Sebastian's touch to Kurt's...

His brother had been the one who had told him everything about sex. It had been the most embarrassing conversation Blaine had ever had the misfortune to have, and Cooper had taken way too much glee in his mortification. But dramatic as he was, his brother had said something that had struck a cord with him. After a lot of details on his former sexual exploits, the at that point recently married Cooper had started to explain about how different it felt – that sex with somebody he had felt attracted to had been pretty great, but nothing against the fulfillment he felt with his wife. Sex couldn't give you complete fulfillment, not if it wasn't tempered with love and honor.

Love and honor... Cooper had talked about marriage, of course, that it would only be fulfilling with the person one did not only love but was also married to. It made sense for Cooper, who hadn't really been in love before he met Jane. But even then, Blaine had known that love and honor wouldn't always be the same. Looking at his parents, he had figured that love was the more important factor, as nobody could doubt their honor, and clearly they weren't all that happy.

The last few days had been a field study in this theory. He had felt attraction to both of them, but only in one of those cases he had felt more than lust. He hardly knew Sebastian, couldn't tell if he even liked the other young noble. Kurt on the other hand had been by his side for years. They knew each other, they could talk and laugh together, Blaine could trust in him, tell him every secret without fearing they'd be revealed. They were friends, but they cared about each other more than that.

With a sigh, Blaine sank back into his pillow. A few days ago he had thought how easy it would be to fall in love with Kurt. But at that point, it had already been too late for him anyway. It was true, of course, that one should be careful what to wish for. He had wanted to be in love, and now that he was... Well, where did that lead him?

Nowhere. He was still exactly where he had been before this realization.

It did explain why he had felt guilty towards Kurt. He knew that he would feel hurt and jealous if he knew Kurt would meet and be intimate with someone else, even though there was no claim between them. He probably wouldn't want to hear any details about it – which reminded him that he had probably said too much last night when the alcohol had loosened his tongue. With a sigh he hid his face in his hands. Yesterday had not been his best day.

Kurt had been calm, though. Had he minded? And really, what were Kurt's feelings anyway? There was enough for him to want to kiss Blaine, and then ask for them to leave together. He had reacted so hurt at being rejected... and Blaine had felt so guilty about hurting him that he hadn't gotten around to actually think about what had happened. But while he was in the process of going over past events rationally, he might as well go over this as well. Had Kurt ever given him an indication before that he had feelings for him? Every time Blaine had gotten closer, or tried to get closer, Kurt had withdrawn, or even outright rejected him. And then all of a sudden they'd been kissing... and then Kurt had asked him to run away, to give up his whole life... Where had that even come from?

Maybe it would be easier to understand everything if he stopped making assumptions about Kurt's feelings. Maybe he should just ask...

But again, where would it lead him? Kurt had told him once before he wasn't interested, and that hadn't helped in dealing with his own feelings – they'd just gotten deeper. And if Kurt did say he had feelings for him... that would probably just make it even harder to move on from this and do what he had to do.

No, it was time to stop the childish dreams and face the music. He wasn't quite sure why he should manage to actually do it this time, but he had to keep trying.

He felt almost ready to face the day and whatever it might bring, when the door opened. Blaine sat up in surprise, only to find Kurt standing in the door – but the expression in his face was as dark as oncoming storm clouds.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Your father... He wants to see you,” Kurt said.

“What for?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head. “I don't know, but there's been a message from Lord Smythe. He wants to see your father and you... and the Fabray family. I don't think there's good news.”

Blaine paled. The carefully constructed calm was shattering right in front of his eyes. “Oh god.”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt said, “but you have to hurry up.”

Blaine fell back onto the bed. “I can't,” he whispered, “I... Kurt, I can't...”

For a second, Kurt closed his eyes, than he walked towards him and pulled him to his feet. “You will go and listen to what they want from you, and when we know, we'll figure out what to do. But right now, you have to be strong enough to hear it. Can you be?”

Unable to say a word, Blaine nodded.

Kurt took his hand and squeezed for a moment. “Then get ready.”

* * *

By the time Blaine woke up, Kurt had already been working for some time. He had risen with the sun, and taken the opportunity to check on the young lord again. He'd been sleeping fitfully, and Kurt had left him water and willow bark to help with the headache he certainly would have from the wedding feast.

Maybe it would have been better if he had never come to the capital. It had all seemed so glamorous when they had arrived, so alive and joyful at the festival in the Springs. And now...

He tried to throw himself into work again, but now after the feast was done, they didn't actually have that much to do – a privilege of being a guest that Kurt didn't care for much at the moment. There was some shopping to be done, but even that didn't take much of his time.

And so, he found himself in the courtyard, not sure what to do with his time. He considered checking on Blaine again, hoping that the young lord was awake now. Last night, Blaine had wanted to talk, and Kurt hadn't wanted to listen. He still thought he didn't actually need to know any details about whatever had happened with Sebastian. But still... didn't the fact that Blaine thought it necessary to discuss this with him tell him something?

It had taken some time last night until Blaine had calmed down enough for Kurt to put him back into his bed, hopefully without further interruptions by Lady Quinn. Afterwards, he had stayed for a bit, humming while he waited for the young lord to fall asleep. It hadn't taken much, and even then, Kurt had stayed behind, watching over his sleep.

He shouldn't have come to the capital. It hadn't been easy to suppress his feelings, but since they'd come here, it had become impossible. As the time was running out, his feelings had become stronger. And Blaine...

Kurt knew he was under a lot of pressure, and he tried to be understanding, but he couldn't help feeling upset. Did Blaine even realize how hurtful he was being? It had been months ago that Blaine had signaled his feelings, and the moment Kurt tried to reciprocate, Blaine rejected the mere possibility of them in order to be a good son to a family that would never appreciate him. And just two days later, he ended up with that snake Smythe, and then he got himself caught, making the whole charade of being a good son pointless.

Well, that was being unfair. Blaine certainly hadn't planned to get caught and therefore had assumed that he would be safe from discovery. He hadn't even planned that... tryst or whatever it had been. And clearly, that had been more wine than he could handle, so he couldn't possibly held all responsible for what had happened.

It would be nice if he could just find a way to reconcile his rationalizations with his feelings, or could even keep those stable for more than a few hours...

“Um, excuse me?”

He flinched, although he tried to hide it. He hadn't noticed anybody coming close. But as he looked up, he found himself in front of the blonde girl he had seen with Lady Santana.

“You're from Dalton, aren't you?” the girl asked. Dani, he remembered.

“I am,” he said, “and you're working for Lady Santana, right?”

The girl laughed. “Me, working for a lady? No, that isn't for me. I'm a bar wench, I'm working in the Springs. I met Santana when she was sneaking out once.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows. So apparently sneaking out to see the peasant life style wasn't something only Blaine did, maybe more of the young nobles gathered experiences that way. “I just assumed because I saw you walking together.”

Dani nodded. “I see where you'd get the impression. But no, we're just acquainted. I would hate to start anything with somebody who's in power over me. I don't believe that usually ends well.”

“Tell me about it,” Kurt said. “But what brings you here?”

Dani hesitated now. “Well, it is about Santana... and about your friend. Brittany, I think? I was just wondering what their story is. I know they were intimate at some point.”

“I don't think you have to worry,” Kurt said, “from Lady Santana's reaction I doubt that she'd abandon you for Brittany.

Dani shook her head. “I wasn't worried about that,” she said. “I like Santana very much, but it isn't serious.”

“You're very open about this,” Kurt said.

Dani shrugged. “I have the impression you can relate,” she said, “I somehow don't see you pursuing a girl. Besides, you've already seen that... meeting we had the other day. What more am I telling you?”

“You have a point,” Kurt said, “but I don't think I can really help you. I know that Lady Santana stayed at Dalton for a while on her family's trip north. She and Brittany had some sort of affair, I think, but it ended with the lady's stay.”

“Is that all?” Dani asked in surprise. “I don't understand why Santana would be so upset about this.”

Kurt frowned, trying to think back on the things Brittany had mentioned. “It must have been important to them,” he said, “and I think Lady Santana asked Brittany to come and work for the Lopez family.”

“Well, that sounds important,” Dani said, “why did Brittany refuse?"

Kurt frowned. “I'm not sure, she said something about unicorns.”

“Unicorns?”

“It's Brittany,” Kurt said with a shrug, “she always says weird things like that. She usually believes them, too. I'm not sure why Lady Santana was so horrible to her, though...”

Now Dani was frowning. “You don't think that somebody would take offense at being rejected for unicorns? Especially someone like Santana?”

Well, put like that...

“Anyway, thank you for the information, I think I should go and talk to her,” Dani said. “How long are you staying at the capital?”

“A few more days,” Kurt said.

“You should definitely go to the High Market,” Dani said with a smile, “I think it's the most relaxed one of the markets, and they have a lot of beautiful wares to sell.”

“I'll consider it,” Kurt said.

As Dani turned to leave, Kurt noticed another person approaching. It was a messenger, bearing some lord's colors. As Kurt looked closer, he could see the badge showed a serpent forming an S. Going out on a limb, he assumed the message was coming from Lord Smythe.

“What does he want?” he muttered as he approached the messenger.

“Find your lord and I'll tell you,” the boy said. “And hurry, Lord Smythe needs to talk to him, it's very urgent.”

Kurt shuddered. This could not be good.

* * *

Blaine felt as if he was walking to his own execution. He somehow managed to keep a neutral expression on the way. His father hadn't said much, but he had looked worried. Lord Smythe had called them to one of the lower chambers that was sometimes used for less important council meetings. It was a sign for how close Smythe was to the royal family that he could just commandeer space at the castle like this.

As they entered the room, Blaine saw that they were the last to arrive. Lord Smythe was sitting at a table, Sebastian by his side. The other boy looked pale and anxious, which worried Blaine even more. The situation had to be bad if even unimpressionable Sebastian was concerned.

Duke Fabray and Quinn were also sitting there – and to his surprise, Quinn didn't look much better than Sebastian and probably he himself did.

Following a gesture, Blaine sat down beside his father, scared of what was to come.

“Now that we're all here,” Duke Fabray said, “how about you tell us what this is about?”

Smythe rose to his feet. “There have been some rumors going around, and in light of your engagement, I thought it would be wise for me to put them out into the open so you can react accordingly.”

Blaine noticed his father's face darken.

“What do I care about some rumors? And what does that have to do with the engagement?”

“You should care about them,” Lord Smythe said, “because they put a... let me be honest, an unsavory light onto that engagement. There has been... infidelity.”

Blaine was frozen. Smythe was going to tell, he knew it. What would his father do? How on earth could he survive this? He quickly looked to Sebastian, but the other boy wouldn't meet his eye.

“Infidelity?” his father asked. “Be more precise.” As he said that, he glared at the Fabrays.

“The rumor on the street is... that Lady Quinn is with child.”

I took a few seconds until Blaine understood what he had just heard. When he did, he looked up quickly. “What?!”

He looked to Quinn. Her head was down, her eyes firm on the clenched fists in her lap... and she looked utterly devastated. This alone was enough for him to realize that it was true.

“Those are just rumors,” Duke Fabray said, his voice loud and commanding, but it would be no use, not with the way Quinn was cowering there. “They're vicious lies, with the sole aim to destroy our alliance. I assume Lopez is spreading them?”

“I'm afraid not,” Lord Smythe said, “come here, girl.”

Another person stepped forward that Blaine hadn't noticed before, a slight girl with braided blonde hair and the simple clothing of a maidservant.

“Kitty here serves Lady Quinn. Tell those young lords what you told me, Kitty.”

The girl shot an apologetic look at Quinn, but then she turned to Lord Smythe again. “Lady Quinn lay with one of the stable boys, his name is Noah Puckerman. She's pregnant, and her mother thinks she's about two or three months along. The stable boy has been trying to convince her to live with him and raise the child, but her father insisted she should find a husband quickly and pass the child off as his.”

Earl Anderson was on his feet now, too. “And you knew about this?” he asked, glaring at Duke Fabray.

“You heard the girl,” Lord Smythe said, “unfortunately, a lot of people have heard the girl by now. The cat is out of the bag, so to speak, and we'll have to figure out how to handle it.”

Duke Fabray's anger seemed to dissipate, and when he talked, he was all business. “We can figure this out,” he said, “I'm sure we can find a good solution...”

“There is nothing to figure out!” the earl shouted. “Do you think I'll have my family insulted by you and your whore daughter?”

The word struck something within Blaine. He looked to Quinn, and the tears streaming down her face. It made sense now, how she had tried to seduce him. If only she had talked to him, trusted him with her secret... they could have figured it out, their fathers wouldn't have had to find out... He felt relief that it wasn't him that was exposed, but when he looked at Quinn... she was going to be cast out, shamed, and for what?

For one mistake. It could have been him just as easily, one mistake trodden out for the public, that could lead to losing everything.

He wasn't even sure where the lords had gotten in their shouting as he got to his feet.

“I will marry her.”

The room went quiet. Even Quinn looked up, her blue eyes wide and shining.

“Excuse me?” Lord Smythe said, a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I'll marry Quinn. We'll say it's my child, that there's been some indiscretion, that it's really early, I don't know... Maybe people won't believe it, but it doesn't even matter. I'm not your heir, that's Cooper, and then his sons. There'll be no consequences long term.”

“Shut up, boy!” his father said sharply.

Blaine didn't care. He walked up to Quinn, and took her hand. “It's going to be okay,” he said, “there'll be talk, but there'll always be talk about something. It will be fine.”

“You would do that?” Quinn asked.

“Nonsense,” his father said, “you are not going to marry her! No son of mine will marry a whore or raise her bastard!”

“Drop it, boy,” Lord Smythe hissed.

“She's not a whore, she just made a mistake!”

Lord Smythe advanced, and on instinct, Blaine backed away against the table.

“A mistake? Like the one you committed with my son yesterday?”

Blaine froze.

He couldn't even breathe anymore. How could he have let this happen? Not even an hour ago, he had decided not to cross Lord Smythe, and now... Now it was over. He didn't dare to look up, see his father's reaction. A moment later, he could hear all he needed in his voice.

“What are you implying, Smythe?”

“I'm not implying anything,” Lord Smythe said, “I'm _stating_ that yesterday during the feast, I found your son and mine together in a... compromising position. I'm very sorry about this, my friend, I know how much faith you had in your son's conduct, but... Well, we can't always have the children we wish for.”

“My son is not a deviant,” the earl hissed. There were a few steps, and suddenly, Blaine's face was grabbed and pulled up so he could look into his father's eyes. “Tell me the truth, boy!”

Oh god... He had to deny it, to pretend nothing had happened... but he knew, his face was just as treacherous as Quinn's had been before. Denial was not an option.

“I'm sorry, father, I... I didn't mean... it was just once, I won't ever... I'm sorry.”

His father stepped back, shock taking over his face. “God... you have...”

“Well, isn't this interesting?” Duke Fabray asked. “You call Quinn a whore, when in truth your son is one.”

Earl Anderson looked up. “My son...” he muttered. “My son is a good man and a good ally, and married to a good woman. This boy... No.” His face was hard when he turned to Blaine again. “You are not my son. I will not have you step foot into my castle again. See how you get along in the streets, I don't care.”

“Father, please...”

He saw the hand rising, but he didn't understand until the strike hit him. He stumbled from the force of it as well as from the shock, and fell against the table. The pain shot through his face and his back. Behind him he could hear Quinn gasp, and he saw Sebastian getting to his feet.

“I am _not_ your father.”

“I have enough of this as well,” Duke Fabray said. “And you girl... we'll talk about this when we're home.”

Blaine hardly notice them leaving. He was shaking, and his whole body felt numb – everything apart from his cheek that was still burning. His father was turning away. Oh god, it was over... His whole life... he had tried so hard to be a good son, to be what his father wanted, and now? All for nothing. He blinked against the sudden wetness in his eyes. God, he shouldn't be crying, that too was something he wasn't supposed to be doing... but did it even matter now anymore? Could that look of disgust in his father's face even get any worse now?

“Well, this has been quite the day,” Lord Smythe said, “although... I do believe you're acting too quick, my friend.”

“I am _not_ your friend,” the earl said. “And there is nothing left to talk about.”

“You came here for an alliance,” Lord Smythe said unimpressed, “and believe me, once this story gets out, you wouldn't find a match for him anyway.”

“I'm not finding him a match,” the earl said, “because he is not my son.”

“He _is_ your son, though,” Lord Smythe said, “and that doesn't change just because you don't like what he does. Take it from me, I've had several years' worth of disappointments from my son. Nevertheless, you have to focus on your position now. Not all is lost. Look at me, everybody knows about my boy and still I hold the king's favor.”

“What are you getting at?” the earl asked.

“The king wants you in an alliance that binds Dalton to the south. I doubt he'll be happy to have this fall through, and I doubt that you will be content unless you ally yourself to the king's forces,” Lord Smythe said.

“Does it even matter what I want to do? The boy is ruined, even if I didn't cast him out. Quinn Fabray is a whore, Lady Lopez won't take him now. He's useless anyway. There's no match I could still get for him.”

“Well, now that is just not true.”

Something in Lord Smythe's tone made Blaine look up. The man looked completely self-satisfied, and smirked at him, triumphantly.

“There is, in fact, one match left.”

* * *

This morning, the rumors were flying fast. It had taken mere minutes after he had brought Blaine to the meeting, that Kurt knew about Lady Quinn being pregnant, carrying the child of a squire, a stable boy... even the crown prince, according to some rumors.

Kurt knew he should feel sorry for her. A scandal like this would destroy her life. She would in fact be lucky if she wasn't cast out of her family. And yet, when he heard the rumors, he felt relieved. As horrible as it was for Quinn – at least Blaine was safe.

And then, it changed. Duke Fabray was seen storming out, a devastated Quinn following – and a blonde serving girl in their shadow, staying behind to tell the newer parts of the story, the parts about Earl Anderson's son, the deviant, lying with Lord Smythe's son, and how he got cast out for it.

Kurt sank against a wall, trying to calm down. It had to be true. If the earl knew... Blaine had been sure that his father would throw him out.

What was he supposed to do? Where was he even supposed to go? Maybe there was a small chance that Cooper would take him in, at least temporarily. But then again, from what Kurt knew, Cooper listened very carefully to his father's opinions. If the earl wanted Blaine gone from their family...

...then Blaine had just lost everything.

Even with how little Kurt saw from his father and stepmother, he knew that they would always welcome him back, that they loved and supported him. Blaine didn't have that. His father would abandon him, and neither his mother nor his brother would care enough to stand up to the earl. Blaine had lost everything...

Finally, Kurt's brain kicked in again. Blaine had _not_ lost everything. There was still him, and no matter how complicated things were between them, he would not abandon his friend, the boy he was in love with. He had a little money, and if he went to the countess and told her he wanted to take his leave, she would give him what was missing of his salary. That might be enough to get them at least part way to Lima. He could always earn a bit on the side, and maybe they could get some jewelry, things that belonged to Blaine, and sell them. He'd make enough money to get them north to Lima. It would be hard for Blaine, to lose everything and start completely new. But he'd get over it, he'd have to, and then... they'd figure it out.

Kurt was pacing back and forth, waiting for them to come out. Eventually, the door opened, and Earl Anderson stormed out, as angry as Duke Fabray had looked earlier. And mirroring Quinn, Blaine followed. His face was pale, apart from a red mark on his cheek, and his face was wet with tears. Kurt felt his own heart break at the sight.

Blaine walked slowly, staggeringly, as if his mind wasn't quite there. Kurt walked up to him and put a hand to his arm. As if startled, Blaine looked up, and suddenly the young lord was in his arms.

Even as Kurt pulled him closer, his mind acted up. Wasn't this dangerous? They were completely in public...

“People will see,” he whispered into Blaine's ear.

“Doesn't matter,” Blaine replied without even looking up, his voice rough, “ _everybody_ knows.”

“Oh god,” Kurt whispered. It was to be expected of course, the rumor mill at the capital seemed extremely fast. But god... poor boy. Blaine was shaking in his arms, and he could feel the moisture of tears against his shoulder. Softly, he stroked the boys head, waiting for him to calm down.

Eventually, Blaine stepped backwards.

“I'm so sorry,” Kurt said softly. “I... we'll figure something out. It's not the end, no matter what your father says. You don't need your family, you can be fine without them.”

Blaine looked at him in confusion, but then he shook his head. “It's not... I'm not cast out, Kurt.”

Kurt frowned. With the rumors, the earls attitude, how upset Blaine was...

“But if everybody knows... does your father not care?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. “He cares, but... he's still got use for me.”

Kurt frowned. “Use?”

When Blaine looked up at him again, he looked helpless, and confused.

“I'm... They said...” He breathed deeply, and shook his head as if to clear his mind.

“I'm to marry Sebastian.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go again, chapter 8, or as it was known in the original draft, chapter 4. But well, the story hasn't just run away in length, but also in plot details. I actually like the detours.  
> Speaking of running away, I actually planned a huge fight between Kurt and Blaine in this chapter. But the more I planned it, the less fighting it was, until I realized a fight wouldn't work at all, so here's to another chapter's plans overthrown. But again, I think this version is better. 
> 
> In case there are any doubts, this is NOT the final chapter. But after this chapter the story will have a time jump, and it might be a bit longer till I update. It won't make for the most uplifting cliffhanger, sorry for that. I still hope you enjoy it, and keep reading for when things are finally looking up for these two. ...though that really might take a while.

* * *

“Well, wasn't this a nice display? This went rather well, don't you think?”

Sebastian looked up as his father's words tore him out of his... well, trance  w as too strong. His thoughts. And what wonderful thoughts they were, even as he was still sitting in the chamber that Earl Anderson  as well as the object of his fantasies  had just walked out of.

He was getting married. He had never cared much about it, wasn't sure what was so amazing about marriage even now, but it wasn't important either. What was important was that Blaine Anderson would be his. Gorgeous, innocent, never-been-touched Blaine was going to be his. He wasn't even sure how that had happened...

But then he registered his father's words and quickly went over his memory of the events of the morning.

“You planned this,” he said accusingly.

His father rolled his eyes. “Of course  I did . Think, boy, I know you're able to.”

Sebastian frowned. “I don't understand why you did that. Fabray paid you well to arrange that match.”

“And nobody can blame me for the match's breaking,” his father said. “After all, nobody can expect the earl to wed his son to a whore. It would have been nice to have something to hold over Fabray, but actually, this way might be better. Can you think why?”

“Because it's Fabray's fault the Dalton match fell through,” Sebastian said, even though he was already sure that it wasn't all of the answer – still, with his father it was better to start talking instead of thinking too long. “Of course, there will also be the rumors about Blaine...” He frowned. “But you didn't have them spread before, did you?”

His father grinned, shaking his head.

“So at first there were rumors about Quinn's pregnancy, and only after the Duke left our little meeting here, the rumors about Blaine started to spread. So it's even possible that people think Fabray spread those to protect what was left of his daughter's honor.”

“Very good, continue.”

“The king will blame Fabray for messing up a match he wanted... and then you step up, bringing Dalton into the fold after all. Oh, and I doubt the Quinn affair will be too good for Fabray's standing.”

“Exactly,” his father said, nodding approvingly. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around. In one swoop, I earned the king's favor and sent Fabray into limbo.”

“And I'm getting married.”

“That too,” his father said, “again, I knew there'd be a use for you at some point.”

Sebastian frowned, hesitating. “Why did you do it, though? Just because I said I wanted Blaine?”

His father shrugged. “At this point, I would literally take any match for you that'd get me the least bit of an advantage,” he said. “You're a smart boy, too smart for your own good sometimes, and if you used that brain of yours, you could be very useful for me. But you only care about finding yourself some new whore. And all of a sudden, you want that boy. A naïve northern boy of noble blood whose family we need to bind to the south.” He sighed. “Honestly, I'm happy enough with the alliance and getting rid of Fabray. But if there's the slightest chance that you like him enough to even pretend to lead a respectable life... well, for the better, then.  Who knows? Maybe it will work out. You said yourself he's more than a whore.”

“He is,” Sebastian said immediately. He couldn't explain what had drawn him to Blaine. He had never really had a thing for virgins, and yet with him his innocence was enticing. He was gorgeous, too, maybe not even aware of just how beautiful he was. And there was fire beneath the polite facade that he couldn't wait to see break through.

Sebastian knew he had been looking for something in all those boys he had taken to bed over the last few years, although he had never found it. Maybe Blaine was the one that could actually hold his interest, the one he could actually find some happiness with. The perfect boy, that his father had just given to him, as if it was nothing.

“I'll do my best,” Sebastian said, “you'll see, if I can have him, I don't need whores anymore. It'll be enough.”

“We'll see,” his father said, clearly not convinced. “But as I said, the chance is enough. Oh, and boy? Don't ever say again that I haven't done anything for you.”

Sebastian felt his smile widen to the point he feared his face might split. “Never again.”

* * *

Kurt had spent the rest of the day just walking through the streets of the capital. He didn't even know or care if the family needed his services. Right now, he couldn't deal with it, not with any of it. He must have walked over every single market without even realizing. He got lost so often that he was surprised he didn't accidentally wander outside the city walls. It still didn't help with the chaos waging in his mind. And no matter how long he walked, he couldn't get his mind off Blaine.

He had left the young lord in his room, hopefully far enough away from the gossip that was still running wild in the capital. Kurt shuddered at the mere thought of some of the things he had heard people say over the course of the day. It was better if Blaine was shielded from it all for now. Thankfully, the young lord had been too exhausted to protest. It was a relief, really. After the revelations of today, he wanted Blaine to be safe. But for himself, he needed some air, some distance, and some time to think things through.

Everybody knew, and those who didn't probably would before the evening. Blaine's biggest secret was out in the open, for everybody to see and taunt, and his family... well,  they were  more supportive than he expected, if only for political reasons.

And Blaine was going to marry Sebastian Smythe.

Kurt wasn't quite sure why he had such a negative gut reaction to that man, but he had a bad feeling about him – him, and the way he looked at Blaine as if he was a piece of meat, the way he couldn't keep his eyes or hands to himself during the wedding feast, and especially those marks he left on  Blaine' s skin. His weasel face, his sneering voice, the way he had talked to the servants...

So there might be some jealousy, but that didn't change the fact that Smythe was bad news. After all, consorting with him was  w hat had gotten Blaine into the mess he was in.

But was he really in a mess? The earl had reacted with anger, apparently, but wasn't it better this way than live a lie forever? And he hadn't been cast out, had even been accepted with his preferences... Well, acceptance was probably taking it too far. Still, he was going to marry a man. Even if that man was a weasel.

And that was the point where Kurt had to get away. It had been hard enough to imagine Blaine marrying Lady Quinn or any other girl. He would have been miserable in such a marriage, and that wasn't something Kurt could ever wish on him. But he still could find comfort in the fact that Blaine wouldn't love her, that the feelings for himself would be stronger than that – not much comfort, true, but it would be something.

And now?

In a way, Blaine had gotten what he wanted. By marrying a man, he was in the same position as most young nobles who entered an arranged marriage. It  c ould work out well, or at least it  c ould if Smythe wasn't so loathsome... not that Blaine seemed to mind him too much.

It was one thing, though, to be rejected in order to be the good soon, for familial duty – it was completely different if Blaine chose a weasel like Smythe over him.

Kurt shook his head, as he arrived at this point for the millionth time. This was not what this was about, and he knew it. He understood enough about the nobility to know how rigidly they were raised to honor their families, especially their fathers. Neither of the Anderson boys would openly defy the earl, it was too ingrained in their minds to follow his orders. Kurt had always known that, and he had always known that Blaine would follow those orders and get married. Why did it feel so much worse now that it was Sebastian Smythe instead of one of the ladies?

For some reason, it took him hours of thinking about the same questions again and again, hours of walking through the capital without aim or purpose, until he realized what should have been completely obvious.

There hadn't been a chance that Blaine would fall in love with any of the ladies. Ever since the young lord had confessed this to him, Kurt had been lost. He had hoped that Blaine would love him, had believed it could happen. And now he would go and marry a man, someone he might actually love. It wasn't that Kurt wanted Blaine to be miserable... but to think that he would just move an and find love? And with someone like Smythe...

It was too much.

For months he had tried to suppress his feelings completely, and nothing had worked, nothing had helped. But this might just be what could break his attachment. It wasn't even the anger, or the jealousy... he was just feeling so tired. It was too much.  He had finally come to the point from which he couldn't go on anymore, not like this.

His heart heavy, but his mind clear, he returned to their quarters. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

In the evening, all arrangements were made. Kurt hated going back on a promise, but he knew this was something he couldn't possibly keep, not without losing his sanity. But he had to tell the young lord himself, and that requried finding him first. But this time, he didn't need to look for long.

Of course, Blaine was in the chapel, but he wasn't praying. He was just sitting underneath the angel's statue, curled into himself. He looked beyond exhausted, drained of all energy. Kurt couldn't help but remember the night of the Solstice. It wasn't as cold, but still the young lord was shaking, and seemingly unaware of his surroundings. He didn't look up until Kurt stopped right in front of him.

“I knew I'd find you here,” he said softly.

Blaine looked up, and the tiniest smile appeared on his face. “I'm that obvious, aren't I?” he asked. His voice sounded hoarse, and there was self-deprecation in his face as he spoke.

“You have your habits,” Kurt said. Slowly, he let himself slide down until they were sitting side by side. Blaine sank against him as if by instinct. Despite the shaking, he felt warm against Kurt's skin, even through the layers, warm, and familiar. Everything in Kurt screamed at him to pull the boy even closer against himself, but he suppressed that urge – not anymore.

“You've been gone,” Blaine said softly. “Where... where have you been?”

“I don't even know,” Kurt said, “I just had to get away. A lot has happened, and I needed to think. It's easier if nobody is around.” _Easier if_ you _aren't around..._ But fortunately, Blaine didn't ask any further.

“It's been quite busy, hasn't it?” he said instead. “I'm sorry I'm such a mess. It's just... the last two days...” He put his head into his hands. “The last two days. That actually sums it up pretty well.”

“It really does,” Kurt said. it had been a lot of things happening in such a short time... The sheer amount would be paralyzing for everyone. And yet... it was weird that Blaine didn't show even a trace of optimism.

“I thought you'd be a bit happier,” Kurt said, trying to sound conversational.

At least it made Blaine look up, even though his face was a mask of confusion. “Happy?” he said, as if he had never even hear the word. “What on earth and all the hells am I supposed to be happy about?”

He sounded so confused, and even a bit upset, that Kurt started to doubt his instincts. Still, he continued. “I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but... in a way, this is what you wanted. You wanted the chance to marry somebody you could actually fall in love with, and now you're marrying a lord instead of a lady. Isn't this what you wanted?”

Now, Blaine was staring at him, slightly shaking his head. As Kurt had spoken, his face had changed from confusion, and now there was something sizzling beneath the surface.

“What I wanted...” Blaine repeated. “My father hasn't looked at me since this morning. He's spoken to me, or rather _at_ me, but he hasn't looked at me. He made it very clear that the only reason I'm still at least nominally part of his family is that he could use me for a match. And do you know what he told me?”

Kurt hesitated, not sure how to react to the rhetorical question. As he spoke, the life seemed to return to Blaine, and as he continued, the emotion behind his words kept getting stronger.

“He told me I'm getting married tomorrow, here at the capital. He'll be there as a witness, but nobody else that I know... well, at least nobody from Dalton. The sooner he is rid of me the better... I won't even be allowed to go home first. The way he's acting, I'm not sure if I _ever_ will be welcomed back at Dalton. I might never see my home again. After tomorrow, if my father has things the way he wants, I'm not seeing him again, either.” By now, there was nothing left of the exhaustion and lifelessness from before, all replaced by anger, and pain.

“Cooper has been around a lot today, but never so close that he might end up having to talk to me. And all the time, he looked at me as if he wasn't sure how close he might even get, just to be safe that he wouldn't catch anything, or... I don't even know. Or maybe he wanted to talk to me, and didn't know what to say. Who knows. It's better than my mother. You know what she said? Nothing, at least not to me. She's been feeling under the weather, or whatever other excuse she had, but really, she's refusing to even see me. Doesn't mean I didn't hear her cry whenever I came near her room. And that somehow still managed to be worse than all the things I heard some of the servants say... even a few from our family. I actually thought they liked me, but apparently I was expecting too much there. They didn't even care that I could hear them, they just kept talking... and I didn't even know some of the words I got called, so I guess at least I learned something today!”

With that last outburst, Blaine sank against the statue again.

“I didn't think people would be so cruel,” he said, now soft, as if he didn't care if it was even heard. “You'd think there'd be some kindness... but you're the only one. You're the only one who even treated me like a person today. So no, Kurt. This is not what I wanted.”

Blaine's voice sounded so raw, so pained... Kurt couldn't help it and pulled the other boy into an embrace. Blaine clutched at him as if he was drowning, holding on to the only thing  keeping him afloat. But he didn't cry. Maybe he had no tears left.

Kurt did feel silly, though. He'd spent all day haunted by thoughts of the marriage... and it turned out, that was probably the last thing on Blaine's mind. How could it be anything else, with his family's reactions?

After a while, Blaine withdrew. With hesitation, Kurt let him go.

“Father even said, I shouldn't be here. Holy places aren't for...people like me. As if I was tainting it...”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt said. “I wish I could help you somehow... wish I could take this off you, but I don't know how.”

“You can't,” Blaine said, “and I wouldn't want you to. I just... I wish the last two days hadn't happened.”

“Then you'd still have to marry Quinn,” Kurt said.

“And now she's cast out of her family. Or at least that's what everybody said. How is that fair?” Blaine asked.

“Try to see the bright side,” Kurt said, “you're not on the streets. Your father might be angry, but he hasn't cast you out. It's not all lost.”

“For a while, when I was younger, I even wished he'd arrange a union for me,” Blaine said. A hollow laughter followed that statement. “But I never would have thought it would be like this – that he'd hate me for it. It was naïve back then, yes, but this... I don't know how to deal with this.”

Kurt frowned. “You wouldn't really have to deal with your father if you're staying south, though.”

“I have a whole new family to deal with,” Blaine said.

“So how do you feel about that?” Kurt asked. Maybe it was insensitive to bring it up while Blaine was still so upset over everything else, but the question was burning within him, and he couldn't suppress it forever.

Blaine hesitated. “I don't really know,” he admitted after a while. “Lord Smythe is terrifying, and I don't know much about the rest of the family. I know things are a lot more complicated this close to the capital. I'm not sure how well I can fare with the southern nobility. I'm... I'm a bit scared, to be honest.”

“And what about him? Sebastian?”

And as if he knew that this was the part that Kurt needed to hear the most Blaine took another long pause to think before he spoke. “I think I'd be less worried if it was just him, not his family and moving south on top of the  union . But Sebastian... I don't know him very well, but I think I can arrange myself with him. It's not what I'm worried about.”

“Is that why you sounded so upset about him yesterday?” The question came out harsher than Kurt had intended, but he didn't feel like taking it back at all.

Blaine frowned, maybe surprised at the tone. “I was overwhelmed, and drunk, and I... I made a mistake, yesterday. It won't be as overwhelming in a marriage... or at least I hope so. But I think... it might work out. Maybe, somehow... I don't know.”

Of course, that was not what Kurt had hoped to hear. “Are you in love with him?” he asked softly, looking to his own hands instead of into Blaine's eyes, too afraid of what he might hear or see.

“No.”

That was so fast that Kurt looked up again.

“I don't love him,” Blaine continued, “as I said, I hardly know him. But I think even if I did... I'd probably not be in love with him. But hat doesn't matter, does it? It's what you told me, it's my lot – marry for political reasons, and not for love. But at least I can get along with him, and I won't have to play a role for the rest of my life. That's a good thing... And who knows... sometimes arranged marriages do work out, long term, and they learn to love each other. It could happen, eventually.”

“Listen to yourself,” Kurt said, “could, and maybe, and eventually. What happened to your wish? I thought you wanted real love.”

Blaine looked down, biting his lip and avoiding Kurt's eyes. “ That was naïve,  too ,” he said.

“That was a few days ago, Blaine. How much more mature can you have gotten in a few days?”

If Blaine was bothered by the tone, he didn't show it. “I realized something,” he said. “I don't think it's like in the stories. Love doesn't fix anything, and it's not stronger than anything. This would be much easier without love. Then I could just do my duty to my family, and I wouldn't keep thinking what if...” He trailed off.

With wide eyes, Kurt put a hand onto Blaine's. “What if what?” he asked.

Another pause, then...

“What if I _had_ run away?”

Kurt felt his heart beat up to his throat. “With me?” he asked. He couldn't think what Blaine could be talking about except his spur-of-the-moment idea to run off to Lima. Of course, he hadn't agreed to that, it was a completely ridiculous idea but...

But Blaine nodded, still not looking up to him. “I've been thinking about it a lot today,” he said, “what would be if we had just left. I didn't even really think about it when you asked me. I just knew that I couldn't do it, that it would completely throw over my life. But that's happened now anyway, so...” He sighed. “I don't even know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell you any of this.”

Kurt blinked against the sudden wetness in his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised, with Blaine things never turned out the way he'd expected them. He had come to let go, to say goodbye... and with every word, Blaine made it harder. Maybe he was right, maybe it would be better not to know these things, maybe that would make moving on easier...

But he couldn't help it. He had to know.

“Yes, you should,” Kurt said. “I need to know this.”

When Blaine looked up, his face looked pained. “But Kurt... it doesn't change anything. It's a what if, a fantasy. I couldn't do it then, and I can't do it now. I can't run, maybe even less now, not with the situation my family-“

“Blaine!”

The young lord stopped as if slapped, his eyes wide as he looked at Kurt.

“Do you love me?” Kurt asked.

There was no hesitation anymore. “I do,” Blaine said, although his voice was hardly above a whisper.

Kurt's eyes widened. He hadn't really thought he would ever hear this, had never even allowed himself to imagine it. And though he wasn't sure whether it would be helpful or make things much worse, he couldn't keep quiet. Blaine deserved the truth.  Slowly, Kurt took the young lord's hand into his own.

“And I love you.”

Blaine gasped, and his eyes were wide with surprise. For a moment, there was a shine of happiness, maybe even hope in his eyes.

“You do?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I have for a long time,” Kurt admitted. “I tried not to, but... you can't help it, how you feel about someone.”

“I know,” Blaine said, a rueful smile on his face. “I tried for so long not to fall... and then I realized it had happened already.”

“Aren't we a pair?” Kurt asked. It was strange, though. He would have expected that he would feel better, but the mood between them was still too weird. There was no joy, just a sense of... resignation, that might be the right word, and their hands were still the only point where they touched. “And what now?”

There was more silence, and by the time Blaine spoke, his face was schooled in a neutral expression.

“That's the problem with love... It will just be so much harder now. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you into this. But... it doesn't change anything, Kurt. I can't come with you, I can't just run... I have to do this.”

“What if I come with you?” Kurt asked. He wasn't even sure where that idea had come from, and he wanted to take it back the moment the words had left his mouth. Wasn't that what he had refused to do from the beginning, to be an affair on the side? Brittany could maybe imagine that, but he could never...

To his relief, Blaine shook his head. “I couldn’t do that to you. You couldn't be happy like that, either, and you will only grow to hate me. I'd rather you wouldn't.”

“I could never hate you,” Kurt said, “but you're right. That would be horrible for everybody. But Blaine... we should try to find a way. If we love each other... then we have to fight to be together. We have a shot, we only have to try and take it.”

“We can't, though. _I_ can't,” Blaine insisted. “I'm sorry, I wish I didn't have to hurt you like this but-”

“You don't have to,” Kurt said firmly. “It's not too late. We'll take whatever money we can get, and we travel north. We can stay with my family for a while, and then we can figure out anything else. Don't you think we're worth it?”

Blaine pulled back his hand and let it run through his hair. “It's... we can't, Kurt. What is supposed to happen to my family? They  _need_ this alliance, and it's their last option. If this falls out, they'll lose the king's favor, maybe forever. And the people of Dalton, they'll have to pay the price? And what will we even live off? I don't have any useful skills for a commoner's life. And what if it doesn't work? What if we fight and want to separate? We can't do it, Kurt.”

“Yes, we can. I'm not worried about what ifs, Blaine, and I don't believe that you are, either. We could do it – we only have to dare.” He put a hand onto Blaine's cheek, forced the young lord to look at him. “Give us a chance, _please_.”

But he knew already that he had lost. He could see it in the pain in Blaine's eyes, the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“I can't,” Blaine whispered. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I do love you, but-”

“But not enough to not marry him.” Kurt let his hand drop and tried to keep the tears at bay. He would not cry, at least not here, not right now.

“It's not about him,” Blaine said, “please don't think that, if it was a choice between you and him, it would _always_ be you, that's not what this is about.”

“I know,” Kurt said. He tried to smile, but he assumed it didn't look very happy. “It's not between me and him. The choice is between me and your family. And actually... it's not even that. You're choosing between yourself and your father.”

Blaine's eyes widened, as if he hadn't even realized that yet, but Kurt couldn't stop, had to say this now even if it didn't make a difference.

“And you could never not choose your father. That's how he raised you, as if his word was the ultimate truth, as if the duty to him is your first priority in life. So you choose your family over what would make you happy. And do you know what's the most heartbreaking thing about it?”

Frowning, Blaine shook his head.

“It's not that you won't fight for this. The saddest thing is that you're ready to give up everything for your family – and your family doesn't even care about you.”

Blaine flinched as if he'd been struck. “That's not true,” he whispered.

“It is. Your father would cast you out without a second thought. You said it yourself, he only cares about the match you can give him. Your mother likes you, but she doesn't care enough about you to even speak up to your father, and the same goes for your brother. They don't care about you, and they don't love you. But I do. And if you gave me the chance, I'd do everything to make sure you're happy. But you're turning away from it, you're going to follow your father's wishes, and you will be miserable.”

“You don't know that,” Blaine whispered, although the first tears were running down his cheeks.

“You will be,” Kurt said, “and every day you will wonder what would have happened if you'd been brave enough to follow your heart. But then, it will be too late.”

“You can't wish that for me.”

“I don't. It will happen anyway. But... I can't come with you. I know I promised... but I can't. You know I can't.”

Blaine nodded. “I know. You don't have to.”

“I talked to Brittany, she's going in my stead. I know she's weird, but you won't be alone. And I promise she doesn't think less of you.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said. “You didn't have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

With a sigh, Kurt sank into himself. He felt drained now, too, and it was impossible to keep the tears back now. The last two days really had been too much.

“This is goodbye then?” Blaine asked, once the silence got too heavy for them.

“...I think so.”

They were silent again for a moment. Everything had been said, there was really no reason to stay any longer. And yet... if he left, this would be it. Who knew if they'd ever see each other again? Blindly, his hand sought out Blaine's and squeezed it. So they sat, side by side, their hand's intertwined, and both crying. What a picture they made...

But he couldn't stay forever, and every minute made it even harder to leave. With a sigh, Kurt got to his knees, letting go of Blaine's hand.

“I have to go,” he said softly.

For a moment, he hesitated, but what harm could it do now? Carefully, he put a hand onto Blaine's cheek and pulled him close, until their lips met. He could feel Blaine's lashes flutter against his skin as his eyes closed, and then they were kissing again, just as they had been that night in the Springs.

Eventually – way too early – he pulled back. Blaine was looking up at him, with a mixture of awe and love. That was how he wanted to remember the young lord, open and vulnerable, in the flickering light of the chapel's candle...The way he looked right now... The way his lips had tasted, even underneath the salt.

Blaine let his hand stroke over Kurt's cheek. “Please be happy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kurt smiled through the tears. “Please take good care of yourself for me.”

He bowed forward another time and placed a kiss on Blaine's forehead, but then he stood up and turned around. He couldn't look back now, or he would never manage to leave.

* * *

A union wasn't granted the usual festivities of a wedding, certainly not as much glamor as the royal wedding. Still, Blaine had expected a bit more than this. In the morning, he had been told to dress in his finest clothes, and sent to the castle with an escort. He had been led into one of the council chambers. His own father and two knights from the capital were on one side of the room, and Lord Smythe was on the opposite side, with two other men wearing his colors. Up front, there were a priest and a minister of the king's court that Blaine recognized as a nephew of the queen.

His father didn't even look up as he entered, he was staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

Sebastian was there, too, already kneeling in front of the priest. Breathing deeply, Blaine walked up to them. Every step felt as if his feet were made of lead. He shouldn't be here, he should have run. Every instinct in him screamed that he had made a mistake. But this was the choice he had made. He had to do this for his family, and for Dalton, and maybe, eventually, his father would recognize that, too.

As he knelt down beside Sebastian, he looked up quickly to the other boy, only to see a wide smile flashed at him. He tried to smile, too, although he was sure it ended up quite shaky.

“I see everybody is present,” the minister said, “so in the name of the king, commence.”

It was a shorter sermon than Blaine was used to, but then again everybody knew that the church wasn't completely supportive of unions. Before he knew what was happening, Blaine was instructed to say his vows, had the same spoken back at him, and then, Sebastian kissed him to seal the union. It was short and chaste, not at all what he had come to expect from Sebastian, and then...

Then he was married. It couldn't have taken as much as half an hour.

“Don't look so nervous,” Sebastian said, as they walked out of the chamber.

“My first union, sorry,” Blaine said, trying to make light of the situation.

“I'm sure we'll figure it out,” Sebastian said. He sounded carefree, and happy, as if he had been looking forward to the match.

“What's going to happen now?” Blaine asked.

“There'll be a small toast, very private, just the ones present for the ceremony. Afterwards, we're riding to my father's estate. I hear you're bringing a serving girl? We'll have a good horse ready for her. Once we're home, there'll be a small feast in celebration. And then...” There was that wolf smirk again. “Well, let's say then the fun part of today begins.”

Blaine felt the blood rush to his face, and clearly it had not gone unnoticed.

“You're a virgin, aren't you?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine stared at him. “And you're getting more open about this the longer I know you.”

Sebastian shrugged. “We're married now, no point in being discreet.” Suddenly, he stopped, turning towards Blaine. “You don't have to be afraid,” he said, “I know this has been a lot for you, in a very short time. I get that it's overwhelming. But don't be scared. I've dreamed of having a boy like you, and now... now it is you. My family can be stressful, but you'll have me, and I'll take care of you. I'll make you feel better than you've ever felt in your whole life, and I swear I won't hurt you. We'll make this work. I promise.”

There was more sincerity in Sebastian's voice than Blaine had ever heard from him. A part of him wanted to believe it, to have hope that this actually could work out... and maybe it could. Either way, this was going to be his life now. He had said goodbye to the other choice last night. He had told Kurt to be happy, still wished it with all his heart. And he had promised to take care of himself. Maybe he could find happiness in this life.

“I'd like that,” he said, and now the smile felt a bit firmer.

Sebastian grinned, triumphant and happy like a little kid, and then the other boy – his husband, now – was kissing him again.

It still didn't feel right. But maybe, it could be enough.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that went faster than I expected. After posting the last chapter, I knew there'd be a time jump - well, it turned out not even to be a time jump, more like a time lapse, but a year passes between chapter eight and the time things really pick up again. So I figured I should get an idea on what happens in this year and started to write it like a chapter that was never supposed to be in the story, just so I know what happens. Turns out, I did not have fun writing that year, so I changed it from "completely written" to "cliff notes version" - that was much easier, and I could start writing the actual chapter much sooner than I expected, so here it is.

* * *

It was strange how the absence of someone could be felt even more pointedly than their presence. Even as the earl's family and their servants began their long journey back north to Dalton, it was unmistakable that something had changed. It was quieter, the mood was darker... or maybe that was just how it felt for Kurt. It was ridiculous, really, because even on the road south he hadn't seen that much of Blaine, apart from their rests. But now, even on the road, the young lord's absence was obvious like a wound.

The Earl was riding ahead, his face like stone and without the slightest show of emotion. On occasion, he frowned, and Kurt would like to think that it was because he was thinking of the son he had basically exiled, but maybe it was just a reaction to the wind that had picked up.

The countess was traveling in her coach and refused to leave it even when they rested. The servants took turns bringing her food. Half the time Kurt was the one to bring it to her, he found her asleep, the other half she was either crying or her eyes were so red that he assumed she had just stopped crying. But she didn't speak about her grief, and Kurt could only speculate what it was really about, whether she was actually upset about not seeing her son again, or if she was distraught over the shame that had been brought over the family.

Lord Cooper was the easiest to read, overly emotive as he usually was. He was brooding a lot, his face pained and clouded. He looked at the people around him as if he wasn't sure if he should talk to someone, and if so, then to whom. Once, he called Kurt over, just to ask him if he'd had any idea. It had been too hard to lie, and there was no point to it anyway. He wasn't sure if he had expected disgust or not, but to his surprise, Cooper had looked more upset after the confirmation and had wondered just why his brother hadn't trusted him with it. There was regret in his voice, which made Kurt feel wave of affection for the ridiculous young lord.

There was little laughter and happiness on the way back home. It was a pity, as there was no distraction from his thoughts, and those thoughts couldn't move on from the thought that right now, Blaine was already at the Smythe's castle, being integrated into a new family, and probably happy with his new marriage...

No, he wouldn't be happy. Kurt wasn't sure if this certainty was fueled by jealousy or an actual premonition, but he couldn't imagine that Blaine would be happy – not long-term. Or maybe that was just what he wished for. It was a horrible thought, to wish misery on someone he loved. It was another horrible thought to think about Blaine finding happiness with someone that Kurt thought so despicable.

As much as he tried to clear his thoughts, it wasn't possible. It was infuriating. He had thought he was ready to move on, had been sure in his decision. But it was one thing to decide it, another to go through with it. Even if his mind had accepted the reality, his heart was still longing. Maybe it would be easier once they were back at Dalton, now that Blaine was gone.

It didn't get better, not at first, but that wasn't just Kurt's impression. All of Dalton seemed to have changed in the young lord's absence. Cooper had left for his own home almost as soon as they had arrived back at Dalton, unable to stand the oppressive atmosphere.

The earl and countess had always been distanced from the servants, but that got even more obvious now. The earl didn't change much. He acted as if the events at the capital had never taken place, or maybe more like he never even had a second son. The countess on the other hand took things way harder. She was grief-stricken, and walked through the castle like a ghost. Several times, Kurt saw her standing in Blaine's room, and at least once she was crying.

Kurt found himself close to Blaine's room a lot in those first weeks. It wasn't even consciously, but as he walked through the castles for whatever errand he had to run, he walked past the young lord's former room at least twice a day. Sometimes the countess was inside. Once, he saw the earl in there, and hurried on quickly so he wouldn’t be seen. It took Kurt almost a month until he stepped inside. The room was still the way it had been before, nothing moved out of place, only a thin layer of dust covering things. Without it, Kurt could have almost believed that Blaine would step inside every second. But he wouldn't. He was far in the south, with a new family, in a new life. Everything from his former life had been left behind. Kurt wondered whether he should ask for some of the young lord's possessions to be sent south. It took another month until he dared to bring it up with the countess. But she only started to cry, and the next day the door to Blaine's room had been barred. When it was open again a few days later, it had been emptied out completely. Kurt wasn't sure what had happened to Blaine's belongings, but he had a feeling that they weren't on their way to the south.

Through it all, Blaine's name was never spoken. The servants talked at first, but after a few days the worst gossipers had been sent away, and afterwards, the rumors and talk subsided. Kurt was relieved not having to listen to the gossip, but in turn now nobody ever talked about Blaine.

All in all, to Kurt it felt as if his friend had died instead of getting married.

But time went by, spring proceeded and turned into summer, and with the months passing, the pain of missing Blaine turned into more of a dull ache until it was just another part of life that Kurt had gotten used to. He thought less about Blaine with every day, and as summer slowly turned into autumn, the way he thought about the young lord changed too. the pain and loss weren't at the forefront of his memory. He started to remember their friendship better, and while he still missed his friend, it wasn't as debilitating anymore.

There were letters at least from the Smythe castle. Maybe Kurt just hadn't paid much attention before, but now hat he did, he often saw the serpent sigil of the Smythe family on incoming letters. Watching the family, he realized that the Earl tended to be quite content with those letters, maybe even happy, and wrote back regularly. It was surprising, but in a way relieving. Blaine was probably doing okay down south, even if Kurt couldn't believe that it would last.

His opinion changed, however, when in early winter, one of the packages with letters from the south held not only a letter with the Smythe serpent, but also another one sealed with the bird crest of Dalton. Watching the earl, he could see that the serpent letter was read with the usual content, but the other one was just looked over before it was discarded. Only then did Kurt realize that it had been Lord Smythe the earl had been happily corresponding with. He tried to get a chance to read the letter, but even in his best attempts, he could only catch a few lines in Blaine’s neat handwriting, asking if it was possible to pay a visit to Dalton anytime soon. Kurt could imagine what the answer was when the weeks went by and no preparations were made to receive visitors.

Winter was milder this year, starting late and ending quickly. It was a welcome relief after how harsh the last one had been. There was a short sort of relapse around the Solstice, when Kurt couldn't help but think of Blaine, how he had spent hours praying in the garden. Maybe in a way those prayers had been heard, though if that was the case, God must have one hell of a sense of irony...

But time went by, life went on, and Blaine being gone wasn't as hard anymore. It felt more like nostalgia, a bit like the way he missed his family while he was far away from them. It wasn't perfect, but it was alright. This was something he could actually deal with.

As spring settled in, the sun didn't come through as much as people would have hoped. There was oo little of it, lots of rains, and again and again wind was picking up. It was around the time of the equinox that the storms really came. They were so strong that Kurt didn't dare to as much as walk over the courtyard, too worried that he might be blown away by the wind. The rain was falling so hard that it wasn't even possible to differentiate it from the sound of hail – not that he was very interested in actually finding out which it was.

Of course, nobody really cared about his wishes. Kurt had the bad luck to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. He was around when the priest realized he left the holy chalice at the chapel, and now they wouldn't be able to go through with the ceremony of protection, in which everybody would pray for God to be mild in sending storms, and to leave the crops standing during this one. The choice being between hoping for the best and sending somebody to fetch the chalice from the chapel, the priest and the monks decided for the latter, and Kurt was the only servant nearby.

Timing had never been his strong suit.

Kurt was cursing all the way to the chapel, trying his best to stay close to the walls so the wind wouldn't blow him away. It was raining, at least no hail, and he managed to find cover under the thick coat he had taken and was now holding over his head. Still, it was cold, the wind was too strong, and it blew rain into his face, cold as ice and hard like a thousand little whips. Right now, he hated the priest, and he didn't care if that was something that would get him sent to the hells or not.

He almost slipped as he entered the chapel, but at least in here it was dry. The wind howled outside, the rain hit the roof and the windows hard and loud, but it least he wouldn't get wetter than he already was. Kurt decided to take some time to search for the chalice. He wasn't exactly looking forward to getting back out in the storm again. But as he made his way through the chapel, he realized that candles were burning. It was strange, with the monks and the priest staying inside the main building. He didn't know if anybody else was in here. But as he walked closer, he could see a figure kneeling in front of the angel. Whoever it was was wearing a hooded cloak, drawn back just enough to show a shock of black curls.

Kurt gasped. It couldn't be...

The figure must have heard the noise, turned around and got to their feet. Even in the twilight of the candles Kurt could see he had been wrong. It was a woman, her curled black hair falling over her coat in a way he had never seen this disordered.

“Who is there?” she asked. The voice was enough for him to recognize that it was the countess.

“Forgive me, M'lady,” Kurt said, “I was sent to get the holy chalice for the priest, he left it here. I didn't know there'd be anybody in here.”

“Come closer, boy.”

Her voice always had that tone, naturally commanding, although there was no force behind it. There was no hesitation as Kurt stepped closer, more into the light of the candles she had lit. He could see that she looked grieved, and maybe she had been crying. But now her eyes were dry and her face impassive. She looked him up and down, before she spoke again.

“Kurt, is it?”

He nodded. “Yes, M'lady.”

“I remember you,” she said, “you're the one who always sends his wages north to your family. Very sweet that you take such good care of them.”

Kurt looked down. “My father was sick,” he said, “and he can't earn as much money as he used to.”

“I remember,” she said. “It's not all I remember you for. My... my son, he was fond of you. I saw you two talking a lot. You were friends, weren't you?”

Kurt nodded, although he wasn't sure where the conversation was going. Maybe she just wanted a chance to talk about her son, especially with the way her husband pretended he had never existed. Maybe she had been praying for her lost child. But as far as he had seen, he had thought that she had gotten over this, at least a little bit. Why would she get this upset again all of a sudden?

But then Kurt remembered the day, and suddenly he felt it all come rushing back.

“It's been a year,” he said softly, without even intending to speak.

“One year,” the countess said, “I feel like this has been the longest year in my life.”

A year ago, Blaine had gotten married and left for the Smythe family's castle. It had been a year in which Kurt hadn't seen him, hadn't heard anything of him. He knew that the countess had at least received on letter from her son. She didn't look or sound as if this was enough for her.

The countess continued to talk, although Kurt had the impression that she didn't particularly care about whether he was actually here to listen or not.

“It's something all ladies have to come to terms with. At one point, their children will leave to start their own family, they'll get married and have children of their own. But it was so sudden... I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to him. I still regret this, even now.”

Kurt bit his lip to stop what he wanted to say – that she had had a chance but had refused to see her son, that she could insist on a visit at the Smythe castle, or that Blaine had asked to come visit, and certainly she could have found a way to make this possible. But all of those would require her to stand up to the earl, and that was apparently something she wasn't comfortable with.

“He wanted to come visit,” the countess continued, “but it's not possible at the moment for us to welcome visitors.”

It had to be a lie, although Kurt wasn't sure about the details. All he knew was that Cooper never even announced when he came to visit his parents, and there had never been a problem to find rooms for him as well as his family.

“I've been thinking about going south, so I could see him... But of course, my health isn't quite there. Long travels exhaust me, I hardly managed the travel for the crown prince's wedding.”

That too was something that Kurt couldn't believe, but he still refused to speak his mind. By now, the countess seemed to have noticed something, at least she was mustering him now as if she was trying to assess him.

“His birthday is soon,” she said. “It's less than a month now. We can't be there, obviously, and Cooper is busy as well. But I've been thinking... It would be nice if he at least had something from home, just some sign that... that Dalton hasn't forgotten him.” Her voice broke on the last words, and Kurt had to gulp against the lump that had formed inside his throat.

“He... he always liked the cakes and desserts you made. The roasts as well. There will probably be a feast in celebration of his birthday at the Smythe castle. I'd like to send some of our kitchen servants there so you can make a contribution to it, a bit as it was for the royal wedding. I want him to have at least something from Dalton, if only on his birthday. I believe he would like that.”

“I think so, too,” Kurt said. His thoughts were running wild. Somebody would go to see Blaine, would be able to tell him just how he was doing down south. Maybe he'd even be sent himself...

“I will talk to my husband first,” the countess said, “and then I'll inform you about it. But be prepared for a longer journey.”

“Yes, M'lady,” Kurt said, bowing slightly.

“Very well,” the countess said, “you may go now. I believe you're expected in the main building?”

Kurt blushed. “yes, M'lady,” he said, accepting the obvious dismissal. Quickly, he scanned the room and found the chalice on the altar and retrieved it.

As he returned to the main building, he was too distracted to even notice much of the storm. He felt nervous, almost anxious. From what the countess had said, he was sure that he would be one of the people going south. He would see Blaine again. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to think about that. He had come to the point where he could honestly say that he had gotten over Blaine. He wasn't pining anymore, had accepted that they would never be together. But apart from all that, he missed his friend, and now had a chance to see him again...

It wouldn't even be his decision if he went south, he knew that, but he couldn't help being nervous. He thought he was fine, had moved on – but would he still be able to stick to that if he saw Blaine in person? How exactly was he going to react to seeing Blaine with his husband?

But more importantly, he felt a thrill. It had been a year, he'd be fine, and he would see Blaine again.

* * *

Until they were on the road, Kurt assumed that something would go wrong, that the earl would veto the idea and continue to pretend that he only had one son. But to his surprise – and according to the rumors – the countess had insisted this time, and after a few fights and thanks to Lord Cooper's support, the earl had relented.

And so, Kurt had gone on a journey with a handful of other servants, bearing the ingredients they'd need that wouldn't spoil, as well as gifts the countess and also Lord Cooper were sending south for Blaine's birthday. The knights coming with them to guard their little convoy kept them safe, although they talked about political unrest around Dalton's borders. Apparently, the conflict between the king and the north was getting more complicated, but Kurt hadn't paid much attention to it. Nobody told the servants much about the political happenings around them.

Despite those political struggles, their journey was anything but spectacular. There were no incidents, the roads were safe, their supplies lasted, and the farther south they came, the more excited Kurt got. He hadn't traveled this far south before apart from the trip to the capital last year, and hadn't that trip been a disaster? But going south, the weather got more stable, milder and warm. It was a pleasant trip, but he didn't care that much about the journey itself, not compared with its destination.

They arrived at Smythe castle on the second day before Blaine's birthday, and were welcomed, although not with much enthusiasm. The earl had written ahead, announcing their arrival, so the moment they got off their horses, they were given food, ale, and a chance to wash up, before they were given quarters to stay in for the few days they'd be here.

But Kurt was too nervous to take much time for rest. He had been calm enough during the journey, but now? Now Blaine was somewhere in this castle, closer than he'd been in a year. Kurt thought back on how he had left the young lord in the chapel, crying, scared, but determined...

How would he react now that he'd see Blaine again?

It was impossible to say, and suddenly Kurt felt that he wasn't ready for it. But that was okay, he could first get a feel on how things were, how Blaine was doing, how he and Smythe got along... And there was somebody here that could help him get all thee information he needed. After all, Blaine hadn't come here alone. Brittany was here as well.

He found his way to the kitchens, were some maids were sitting together, gossiping. He took a quick look at them, but Brittany wasn't among them. After a moment, though, a blond girl that seemed a bit familiar to him, looked up and noticed him.

“You're from Dalton?” she asked. “We don't really need your help for anything, you can do your thing before the feast.” She snorted. “Can't believe we're having a feast, but fine.”

“I was looking for someone,” Kurt said, “a servant girl, she originally came form Dalton as well. Her name is Brittany?”

“The crazy one?” the girl asked. “She's not here. She's been gone for ages, I think she's working for Lady Lopez now.”

“What?”

“Oh, Kitty, did you hear?” another one of the girls said. “Lady Lopez is getting married now!”

“No!” the blonde girl, Kitty apparently, said in surprise. “Who?”

“Duke Evans' oldest son,” the other girl said.

“Well, he'll have fun with her,” Kitty said. She frowned at Kurt now. “You're still here?” she asked.

Kurt was taken aback by the hostility in her voice. “I was hoping I could get an impression how things are here... how Bl-... how Lord Blaine is doing.” He was just hoping she hadn't noticed his slip-up. “The countess is concerned about him.”

The girl shrugged. “How is anybody doing here?” she asked. “And how would we know? We're just the servants. It's not like we meet your lord for tea and talk about our feelings. He's doing fine, I guess.”

“Oh, damn it, tea...” the dark-skinned girl in the circle said. “Is it time for his tea already?”

Kitty shrugged. “I wasn't paying attention,” she said. Then she looked around until her eyes landed on the kettle on the fire. “I think it's time, at least it should be about ready,” she said. With a sigh, she got up, and poured the content of the kettle into a jar.

Now that Kurt had seen the kettle, he could place the smell inside the kitchen, and it brought a smile to his face. Chavasa tea, one of the beverages that could be brewed in both the north and the south, and as he knew something Blaine liked to drink.

“Is that for Lord Blaine?”

“Northern drinks for northern-” Kitty stopped abruptly in the middle of the sentence. “Well, yeah,” she said without much enthusiasm.

Kurt eyed her with suspicion. He wasn't sure what she had been about to say, but he was sure he wouldn't have liked it.

“Speaking of northerners,” the dark-skinned girl said, “if you're so worried about your lord, why don't you take this up to him?”

Kurt looked at her, then at Kitty who sprinkled the tiniest amount of spice into the tea. With a sigh, Kurt walked up to the counter she was working on, took a jar of honey and applied it to the tea, just as he knew Blaine liked it. “Where is he?” he asked.

“Library,” Kitty said with a shrug. “Not that hard to find.”

Kurt listened to her description, and had to admit that it did sound easy to find. With a last look at the girls – somewhere between confused and annoyed – he took the jar and left the kitchen.

He felt confused, and wished Brittany was still here. Why had she left? And how long ago? And what was going on with those servant girls? At Dalton, all the servants had adored Blaine. He had actually taken time to get to know them, to listen when he was told things. Most of all, he had cared. It was hard to believe that here he hadn't charmed at least some of them. But those girls... well, they hadn't seemed very impressed with him.

As Kurt walked through the castle, he had to admit that it looked splendid. There were artworks on every wall – tapestries, paintings, ancient vases. It was gorgeous, although almost a bit too much. There were lots of glass windows, making the whole castle much brighter than what he was used to from Dalton. It looked beautiful, but Kurt had a feeling that the atmosphere wouldn't be able to match its looks.

He found the library without problems and after a sharp knock, he entered.

Dalton had a library as well. It was a hall with lots of shelves, stuffed with books, the room itself dark and dusty. It was nothing compared with the room Kurt had just entered. On first glance, Kurt would guess that it was at least twice as big as the library at Dalton. There was more space between the shelves, but they too were packed. The room was bright, though, also equipped with windows. As Kurt walked through the room, he found tables and comfortable chairs, but he couldn't see anybody inside.

At one end of the library, there was a huge window made of colored glass. At Dalton, only the chapel had a window with it, so even the sight made Kurt come closer, fascinated with the colors and how the sun played with them. Only when he was close, he realized that he was indeed not alone in the library. On the broad windowsill, seated on a soft-looking pillow, was Blaine.

Kurt stopped in his tracks and couldn't help but stare. It had been over a year, he needed a moment to just look at him.

Blaine was completely focusing on a book lying in his lap and didn't even pay attention to Kurt stepping closer. The young lord was dressed in bright colors, yellow and green with red accents. Kurt assumed that he was wearing the capital's newest fashion, not that he'd ever get much of an opportunity to keep up with that while he was at Dalton. But on his way south, he had seen the style, and as far as he could say it in this position, he assumed the cut looked amazing on Blaine, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders... But more surprising was his hair. He must have used some sort of pomade to tame his usually wild curls, almost glued them into perfection. That certainly was new.

But beyond it all, it was just Blaine, still beautiful, even with the frown on is face that got deeper with every second.

Kurt was wondering what he was reading for him to react like this. But then, without even looking up, Blaine spoke and he realized he had been wrong, and while it was great to hear his friend's voice again, the words weren't exactly what he had hoped for.

“I don't think you're getting paid for staring. Just put down the tea, and then get lost!”

Kurt stared. This was not something he would have expected from Blaine. “Well, I can see the south has had an amazing effect on your manners already,” he said, his vice dry.

Blaine froze so instantly that the book slipped from his hands, but he didn't seem to care. For a moment, he just stared in front of him, but then, he looked up and saw Kurt. His eyes widened, his jaw fell open. He looked as if he was seeing a hallucination.

“Hello Blaine,” Kurt said and smiled. It was easy to do, easier than trying to look neutral.

Blaine was staring at him, and then, eventually...

“Kurt?” he asked, his voice almost breaking on that single syllable.

“Surprised?” Kurt asked and stepped even closer.

Blaine nodded, still the picture of shock.

Kurt felt his heart beat right up to his chest. It had been too long – in a way it hadn't been nearly long enough – but it didn't matter. Blaine was right in front of him. Kurt couldn't have helped the smile in his face getting wider if he had wanted to.

“Blaine...”

And then, the young lord was on his feet, and the next moment his body crashed into Kurt's. Arms found their way around his neck, Blaine was holding onto him, pulling Kurt so close that no piece of parchment could have found place between them. On instinct, Kurt's arms came up and held the boy just as close. At first, he was exalted at how much Blaine must have missed him, but then he noticed the way Blaine's fingers were clutching into the back of his shirt, how close the other boy pressed against him. It didn't feel much like happiness. It felt more like despair, like someone holding on to a piece of wood in a river, anything to keep them afloat.

Kurt frowned, and pulled back slightly, just enough to see Blaine's face. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

He could practically see how the thoughts ran through Blaine's mind as he tried to think of the answer he wanted to give. But eventually, he just shook his head.

“I'm just... I'm _so_ glad to see you,” he said, his voice raw.

Kurt didn't know what to say, so he pulled Blaine closer against him. “I'm here,” he said softy into the young lord's ear. “I'm here now, Blaine.”

Blaine threw himself back into the embrace. He was flooding Kurt with his smell, with the touch of his body... it was what he had missed for months, and now... it was almost too much, and it made him hold on just as tight.

A whisper was all Kurt heard from Blaine.

“Thank God.” 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

After a moment, Kurt stepped back from the embrace, although he still couldn't withdraw his hands – not after he hadn't seen Blaine for so long. This reaction was more intense than what he had expected. Blaine was looking up at him, a wide smile on his face. Kurt almost felt his heart stop at the way the boy looked at him, open and vulnerable.

“I've missed you so much,” Blaine said softly. “I can't believe you're actually here.”

“Well, I am,” Kurt said.

Worry rose in Blaine's face. “Is this... I mean... you are happy to see me, right?”

Kurt's eyes widened. “Of course I am,” he said, “I've missed you too.”

“You're not here because you have to be, though, right? You... did you want to come here?” Blaine asked.

“I'm here because I want to be,” Kurt said. He tried to sound calm, hoping it would transfer to Blaine.

Blaine sagged with relief. “I didn't dare to ask. I even thought I shouldn't have written to my parents that Brittany left, I had already sent it before I thought it through... You didn't want to come here, and I couldn't ask for them to send you here. But... you're here, it's okay. I'm so, _so_ glad.”

Kurt frowned. “Wait, Blaine. I'm not... I'm not  _staying_ here.”

He almost wanted to take back the words as he saw Blaine's face fall, but he wasn't sure what else he could have said. But even worse than the pain was the way Blaine schooled his face back into a guarded,  almost suspicious expression before he spoke.

“I don't understand,” he said, “then... why are you here? It's not exactly a day trip from Dalton...”

“We're only here for a few day, we're helping with the feast,” Kurt said.

Blaine frowned. “What feast?”

“Your birthday,” Kurt said. “In three days?”

“My...” Blaine's eyes widened. “Oh. I... I actually forgot that. But wait, who is we? Who else came?”

Kurt started to feel uncomfortable. He had just thought of seeing Blaine again, hadn't expected that he would end up raising false hopes and tearing them down again. “A few servants from the kitchen, we're making the food for your feast.”

Blaine smiled at that, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You are cooking?” he asked  after a pause . “I'm definitely looking forward to that.”

“You won't be disappointed,” Kurt said, hoping that they could stay on this superficial level of conversation, at least right now.

But of course, Blaine continued. “So... my family...?”

“They... they couldn't...” Kurt wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Was he supposed to repeat the obvious excuses the noble family had given? Would that be less hurtful than the truth, that the earl refused to go himself and wouldn't allow even Cooper to come?

But the light in Blaine's eyes got dimmer, a sad smile appearing on his face. “My father, of course, is very busy. And I assume my mother wasn't well enough for travel.”

“That's what they said,” Kurt said, nodding weakly.

“Of course they did,” Blaine said softly.

“They send their love,” Kurt said, “and gifts.”

“Right, that's... thoughtful of them,” Blaine said. His frustration was clear in the way he looked down, a frown on his face, but when he looked up again, his expression was neutral. “So how long are you staying?”

“Not very long,” Kurt said, regretting that he had to say these words even as he spoke them, “we have orders to return for Dalton the day after your birthday.”

Blaine nodded to signal he had understood. It was obvious that his mind was racing, but after a few seconds, he seemed to have come to a conclusion. When he looked up again, his expression was surer and calmer.

“About three days then. You won't be busy till the day of the feast, right?”

“We're free until then,” Kurt said.

The smile returned to Blaine's face, and now it seemed more genuine. “ It's  not very long, but we'll make the most of it. Come on, I'll show you everything.”

“You could show me the library first,” Kurt said, “and drink that tea, you wouldn't want all the hard work to go to waste.” He pointed at the tablet with the tea jar standing on the table.

Blaine looked at it not very impressed. “I guess,” he said, “although they never get it right...”

Kurt frowned. It wasn't like Blaine to just ignore or dismiss somebody's work like that. Then again, that girl Kitty had seemed  a bit flippant about  her duties . From the short impression he had gotten of her, Kurt couldn't imagine Blaine would be her biggest fan.

“Try it,” he said.

With a hardly audible sigh, Blaine nodded. Kurt poured a cup and gave it to him. With little enthusiasm, Blaine took a sip, and his eyes widened.

“Well?” Kurt asked.

“It's...” Blaine stopped and looked at him. “Did you make this?”

Kurt shrugged. “I may have helped with the end product,” he said.

Blaine drank again, and a bit of the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate. “It's almost like I remember,” he said.

“We'll get this to 'exactly like you remember', don't worry,” Kurt said.

Blaine looked up to him with gratitude shining from his eyes. “I'd like that,” he said. “I'd really like that.”

It felt too heavy, the way their eyes were connected. Kurt had to remind himself that he was now talking to a married man, no matter how happy Blaine was to see him. It didn't change anything.

“So, what is your husband doing?” Kurt asked, partially to remind himself of this.

It was amazing  as well as scary , how  quickly  Blaine's face shut down. His expression hardly changed, but  now  it betrayed no emotion at all.

“He's not here,” Blaine said, “he went on a hunting trip with his brother. They usually stay out for several days. I guess he'll be back tomorrow.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “He does that a lot?”

“All the time,” Blaine said with a shrug, that didn't appear even half as nonchalant as he probably had intended it to.

“Oh,” Kurt said, not sure how to react to that. “Um, so... I'm sorry, I have to ask... But what happened to your hair?”

Immediately, Blaine's hand went up to his hair, somewhere between self-conscious and proud. “Do you like it?”

Kurt tried to show actual enthusiasm in his smile, but he wasn't sure how convincing it was. “It's... different. New.”

“It's... you know, southern fashion,” Blaine said, “curls aren't very modern at the capital.” He hesitated, as if waiting for a reaction, but then he looked down and shrugged, just taking a few more sips of the tea.

Kurt shook his head. “Anything would look good on you,” he said.

Blaine looked up again, rolling his eyes, although he couldn't help smiling at least a little bit. “Thanks. That might be the nicest lie anybody ever told me.”

“Not lying,” Kurt said. He was not a fan of the grease, but... it was Blaine, and it was probably in Kurt's blood to find him beautiful. But the moment had turned weird again, too intense, and he didn't quite know how to defuse it. Unless...

“So... how about we start the tour of the grounds now?”

Blaine grinned, probably relieved too that they changed the subject. “Very well, follow me then.”

* * *

If anything positive could be said about Smythe castle, then that it was really magnificent. There was art everywhere, the gardens were huge and full of colorful flowers, a lot of which Kurt hadn't ever seen before. There was even a fountain, surrounded by elaborate marble statues. It was beyond impressive.

Blaine seemed more confident as he led Kurt through the castle, pointed out the places where he spent most time. The library seemed to be one of his favorites, but there was also a small part of the garden holding statues of the angel and the saints. They passed a chapel, although they didn't go inside but just walked past.

What Kurt noticed was, that while Blaine could tell him all about the Smythe family portraits, lead him around the castle and tell amusing anecdotes, there really wasn't much enthusiasm. They passed servants occasionally, but they kept their eyes down and Blaine looked away, his expression hardening. It didn't seem right. Blaine had never been distant to the servants at Dalton. Why would that have changed here?

Blaine even let him look into his own rooms. They were bigger than the ones he had at Dalton, decorated lavishly. But just looking inside made Kurt feel like he'd been punched in the gut. None of it looked like Blaine. The room made it look as if he had just disappeared into this life. Instinctively, he took hold of Blaine's sleeve. It was a childish gesture, but he had to make sure that Blaine was still here, still himself. Blaine looked at him in surprise.

“It's a bit much,” he said, trying to laugh it off.

“The word is 'tacky', Blaine,” Kurt said, although there wasn't much bite in his voice. “Come on, show me the rest.”

“The stables, maybe,” Blaine said, and there was actually a glint of happiness in his eyes.

Kurt suppressed a frown. He didn't really care about horses, or stables in general. They were dirty, and they smelled horrible. But if this was something that brought Blaine happiness, he'd bite his tongue off before he'd say a thing.

As they walked through the stables, Kurt wasn’t so sure what he was supposed to be impressed about. His father sometimes had to shoe horses, so he had gotten used to them, but the ones he saw here were nothing like the animals he was used to. These horses were southern breeds, beautiful and slender, but Kurt wasn't sure how well they'd do in a storm, or walking through snow. But Blaine ignored all of them and walked to the very end of the stable. There, in the last box, was a horse quite different from the others. Kurt only needed to take one look to see that it was a northern breed, shorter but more stable than the other animals in the stable. Its fur looked a bit rougher, colored in a beautiful chestnut tone, and on it's forehead, there was a black spot that could have been a V or maybe even if Kurt used his imagination, a small bird.

Blaine walked up to the horse and led it forward, so Kurt could get a better look at it. Just looking at his face, Kurt couldn't regret coming here. The horse bowed its head, and Blaine knocked his forehead against the horse's dark spot, before he turned to Kurt, a smile on his face that was genuine and relaxed.

“She's mine,” he said, softly and proudly. “Sebastian gave her to me for my birthday last year.”

Kurt smiled, although he hated to hear this name anywhere near the serene smile on Blaine's face right now. “She's northern,” he said instead.

Blaine shrugged, although his expression darkened. “A northern horse for a northern...” He stopped and shook his head. “It doesn't matter. I got her on my ride here from the capital. It was the stable boys' idea of a joke. They think she's a second class horse, because she isn't as polished as the southern breeds. Thought they can give her to the northerner... But I don't care. She's a good horse, better than any other here.”

“You're not a northerner,” Kurt said, frowning. At least true northerners always thought of Dalton as a part of the south, at his home in Lima he himself was said to work for “that southern lord”.

Again, Blaine shrugged. “I am as far as anybody here is concerned,” he said, “and I don't mind that either. Honestly, the more time I spend down south, the more I think I _want_ to be a northerner.”

Kurt frowned. There was some bitterness shining through. He hated it, even though he himself had predicted that Blaine would be miserable, but he still hated to see it. If only he knew just what was going on.

Kurt stepped closer and put his hand onto the horse's fur. It didn't feel as rough as it looked. Even from his limited knowledge of horses, Kurt could tell that she was well taken care of. He looked up, waiting for Blaine to meet his eyes.

“She's beautiful,” he said, never taking his eyes off Blaine. “Ignore what anybody says about her.”

The young lord looked at him with uncertainty. “You think so?” he asked softly.

“Absolutely,” Kurt said.

Blaine looked at him out of wide eyes, and there was something vulnerable about him. For a moment Kurt thought that it would break out of him, whatever was hurting him, but then he looked away, focusing on the horse again.

Kurt wasn't sure what to say, if this was the right moment to ask, or if it had passed. With a sigh, he turned to the horse as well.

“What's her name?” he asked.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Blaine was starting to smile again.

“Caverra,” he said softly. “I named her Caverra.”

“Like the tree?” Kurt asked.

“It doesn't grow here,” Blaine said. “It's like...” He stopped, and even in the profile Kurt could see that his eyes were glistening. “...reminds me of home.”

“Blaine...”

“I miss it,” Blaine said without looking up. “I wish I could visit at some point. But it doesn't look like my father would allow it, does it?”

“I... I don't think so,” Kurt said softly. “I'm sorry.” He hesitated, but nobody was here that would see them, so he stepped closer, let an arm wander around Blaine's waist. “You're not happy, are you?”

Blaine shrugged. “As I said, I'm just missing home,” he said, “but I'm okay. I really am.”

Kurt didn't believe a word. But he could see how Blaine was closing off. If there had been a moment, it had passed. For a moment, they just stood there, Kurt keeping contact with his arm around Blaine, and the young lord absentmindedly petting the horse.

“Maybe we could make a little trip tomorrow, ride out. There are a few spots a bit further away that are really relaxing,” Blaine said.

Kurt disliked riding, and he was still exhausted from the long travel. But there was vulnerability in Blaine's voice, a softness in his eyes, and saying no somehow wasn't even an option anymore.

“It sounds like a good plan.”

* * *

To his relief, their little riding excursion wasn't as exhausting as he might have feared. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. Blaine still remembered that Kurt wasn't the biggest fan of horses, so he only took them to a small lake nearby. It was beautiful, peaceful too. Kurt could imagine that Blaine came here often. There was a small tower overlooking the lake, some sort of watch tower that hadn't been needed in almost a century but which gave them a spot to rest, eat a little snack and talk while taking in the view.

When they returned to the castle, Kurt was in a really good mood. Blaine had been relaxed and happy, asking about stories from Dalton, news about his parents, but mostly about Cooper and his family. There had been a few moments of melancholy, and Blaine's weird mood from the day before hadn't completely disappeared, but mostly he'd been happy. It had almost felt as if they were still back at Dalton, as if maybe the last two years hadn't happened. It had been a good day.

Kurt almost found it in himself to hope that yesterday had been the exception, that maybe it wasn't as bad as he had thought and Blaine had been in a weird mood, or just not felt quite well.

That hope lasted until they arrived back at the castle. Blaine was still busy making sure his horse was taken care of, not wanting to leave her in the hands of the stable boys who Kurt noticed were sneering at them. As Kurt waited and looked around, he could hear the sound of hooves, and then a small party of men on horses rode into the courtyard. Two horses rode up to them. Kurt recognized one of them as Sebastian, beside him there was another young man, looking a bit older. His hair was darker, but they looked quite alike, down to the conceited expression. It was Sebastian, who spoke first.

“What are you doing?” he asked, ignoring Kurt completely as he brought his horse to a stop beside Blaine. “How often did I tell you, this is work for the servants.”

“And as I keep telling you, I don't mind it,” Blaine said. Kurt was surprised at how annoyed he sounded. “She's mine and I like to take care of her.”

“What a strange concept, wanting to take care of what's yours,” Sebastian said with a tone that Kurt couldn't quite place.

Blaine rolled his eyes instead of answering. All relaxation from earlier had fallen off him. Maybe the last year had been enough time to show him that Sebastian really was the horrible person Kurt had pegged him as.

“Well, let him,” the dark-haired man said, “everybody needs something to occupy their time, and getting along with horses isn't the worst thing for a young lord to do. Definitely better than getting along with the stable boys, as Quinn Fabray had to learn. Don't you agree, Blaine?”

Blaine snorted. “I wouldn't know, you'll have to ask your brother about that, Hunter.”

“At least I let them work for the money the get,” Sebastian said.

“Ah yes, so generous of you,” Blaine said. “A good thing though, that they're already so proficient at riding.”

Kurt gasped when he heard that. On the one hand, it did distract Sebastian from whatever he was going to answer, on the other hand it brought Kurt himself into his focus.

“And who the hell is that?” Sebastian asked.

“I assume one of your former servants?” Hunter said, looking at Blaine as he spoke.

“You're assuming correctly.”

“What's he doing here then?” Sebastian asked. “Oh, right, that dumb feast thing...”

Blaine's face darkened, and Kurt could see him take a firmer hold on Caverra's reins.

“You have to excuse my brother,” Hunter said, “our little excursion wasn't as successful as we'd hoped it would be. He was actually hoping to shoot a deer for the feast – largest beast I've seen in that forest, if you can believe that – and he's still frustrated that he didn't make the shot. I'm sure after a bath and some rest, he'll be more agreeable. But I'm glad you had somebody here to keep you company. I hear at Dalton you almost treat your servants like friends? It's good that you weren't too much on your own, even if you dislike hunting.”

It sounded amicable enough, but Kurt didn't believe a word Hunter was saying. Even if he had, there was no mistaking the way both Blaine and Sebastian were looking at him in bewilderment.

“You're being weird,” Blaine said.

“Oh, call the town crier, we actually agree on something,” Sebastian muttered.

Before Blaine could reply, Hunter turned his horse. “Be that as it may, I believe Sebastian and I need to discuss things with our father. How fortunate that the stable boys have time to take care of our horses right now. Well, we'll probably see you for dinner tonight. Have a pleasant day.”

Again, both Blaine and Sebastian looked at Hunter as if they'd never seen him. Kurt wasn't sure if he was trying to be subtle, but if he did, he had failed miserably.

“I'm not sure what that was,” Blaine said, shaking his head. Without looking at Kurt, he turned his head to Caverra again. But Kurt could see that he was upset, that the tension was right back in his frame, and the discomfort from yesterday was in full force again.

“They're not usually nice to you?” Kurt asked. Maybe this was the moment when he could get Blaine to open up at least a bit.

But he closed up immediately. “It's complicated,” he said instead.

The whole thing seemed complicated, at least to Kurt. Just what was going on here? But once more, a moment had passed. The best he could do was be there for Blaine and hope that eventually he'd open up to him. But with the second day coming to an end, Kurt wondered whether he'd have enough time for this. He'd leave soon. How could he leave Blaine behind in this place if he didn't know what he was dealing with every day?

“You can go inside, if you want to,” Blaine said, “I'll need some time until I have her taken care of, that can't be very interesting.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You're not getting rid of me this easily,” he said.

Blaine's shoulders sagged, but the tension seemed to lessen at least a little bit. It wasn't enough, but it would do for now.

* * *

Sebastian tried not to be too obvious, after all he did have his pride. Still, even on their way inside and to see their father, he couldn't stop looking back to Blaine and that boy with him. When he wasn't eying the serving boy, he kept his eyes on Hunter. He couldn't remember ever seeing his brother this... polite, or pleasant, and certainly not when talking to Blaine. Half the time, Sebastian wasn't even sure if Hunter even bothered to remember his name.

“Stop staring like a complete idiot,” Hunter snapped. Well, at least now he had found back to his usual tone.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Sebastian asked.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “That squire yesterday actually fucked your brains out, didn't he?”

“He was _adequate_ , would it kill you to keep a closer look on who you're hiring?” Sebastian asked.

“I'm hiring them to serve my estate, not as whores for you,” Hunter said, glaring at him. He really looked like their father when he got like that. “And about the boy, he clearly is servant boy from Dalton – and a former lover of your little pet out there, obviously.”

Sebastian stopped in his tracks. “What?!”

Hunter shrugged. “I just assume so from how I observed them,” he said.

“Well, you're wrong,” Sebastian said, although he felt his temper rise, “Blaine didn't have any lover, I was his first.”

“Were you?” Hunter asked. A grin was forming on his face, reminding Sebastian of a cat – or their father. “See, this is an advantage with women, with them you can actually tell if you were their first.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You can tell anyway, unless you're a complete blind idiot or a selfish asshole. Oh wait, I forget who I was talking to...”

“Well, I'd bet ten Crowns that there was something going on between those two at Dalton. You did notice that they just returned from a riding excursion, right? And I didn't see any other servants with them, so...” Hunter shrugged. “I'll leave it to your formidable imagination, brother.”

Sebastian glared at him. He hoped the anger would mask how he really felt – as if somebody had drawn the ground from under his feet.  But it was ridiculous.  Not Blaine, he wouldn't... He was too smart to start something with a servant, anyway. And too nice. Besides, they weren't even fighting at the moment.  Not much, at least . Things were... well, not good, but they had been worse. Winter had been horrible, but ever since the beginning of spring, he thought things had improved. It was a good thing, too, Blaine had punished him way too long for one stupid moment of inconsideration...

“Still, I would hope you have enough sense to keep that budding jealousy to yourself,” Hunter continued.

“I'm not jealous,” Sebastian snapped. “He's mine, end of story. I don't have to worry about some servant boy.”

“Well good, then how about next time you try and be actually nice to him?” Hunter said.

“Since when do you care how I treat servants?” Sebastian asked.

“I care very much about how you treat servants,” Hunter said, “mostly I'd very much care for you to treat them somewhere I don't have to look at it. But leaving that aside, were not talking about one of our own servants. He's from Dalton. I hope you understand what that means?”

There was a pause, as Hunter waited for him to respond. Sebastian frowned. He usually kept up with politics really well, but lately, his concentration had slipped. Stress in his marriage made him  prefer to visit the wine cellar, not council meetings.

“There's no problem with Dalton,” he said. “We're happily allied.”

“We _are_ allied,” Hunter said, “and we'd very much like to stay allied, especially at the moment. We're on a very thin edge politically. The situation could easily turn into another war between north and south. The king needs Dalton to stay in the fold, which means the alliance between them and us is more important now than it was a year ago.”

“So?”

Hunter sighed. “I give up,” he said. “I can't believe father insisted that we need you around for your political mind. You may not be completely dumb, but you've really lost your touch these last few months.”

“Things are... difficult,” Sebastian said, trying to block the question.

“And whose fault is that?” Hunter asked.

“What, are you saying it's mine?”

Hunter gave him that look again, as if he'd been  hit on  the head  too often . “You wanted him,” he said, “you said you'd turn over a new leaf and be a model son if father gave you that boy.”

“That's _not_ what I said.”

“And now look at you,” Hunter said, as if he hadn't been interrupted. “You're pathetic, Sebastian, and I still believe it would have been a smarter move for our parents to cast you out when they caught you with that monk the first time.”

“Aren't we all wondering about that?”

Both boys looked up when they heard their father's voice. He was leaning against the wall. Sebastian frowned, not sure just how long he had been standing there. With his father, it was impossible to tell.

“Have you met some of our guests already?” their father continued, his tone conversational and pleasant, but Sebastian knew that the steel was never deep beneath the surface with him.

“Why does everybody here care so much about a bunch of servants?” Sebastian asked, not even trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“They are servants from Dalton,” his father said. “The northerners have a different approach to treating their servants, more closely than we do. It has the side-effect that a lot of the servants have an investment into their lords. They actually care. From reputation, your boy used to be the favorite family member. They will care how their lord is doing here, and if they're unhappy with the treatment he receives, they might very well carry that news to Dalton. You see where this might be a problem?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Right, because I'm treating him horribly. Why, before I went out hunting I actually locked him up in our chambers, because I'm a monster that can't stand him to  even see the sunlight.”

“You're not exactly the model husband you promised to be,” his father said, ignoring his protests. “Not a model son, either, by the way. But be that as it may, for the next days, I want your boy to be treated like royalty. That goes for all of you, by the way.” With that he glared at Hunter. “He has a name, and you're going to remember it. You'll be pleasant and treat him as an equal. Did I make myself clear?”

“Of course, father,” Hunter said. “If I may be excused...” He hinted a bow, before he turned to leave, showing Sebastian his teeth in another cat-like smirk.

“Yes, father,” Sebastian gritted through his teeth, before he walked into the other direction. He was seething, but he had learned a long time ago that it was useless to let his family see how he felt about something. Who the hell did they think they were, talking to him like he was a complete idiot? Why would he think of the servants' perception? Nobody ever did, after all. Sure, they talked a lot, and technically the Quinn Fabray affair had taught him they weren't to be trusted, but now he was supposed to be on his best behavior, just in case some servants didn't like the way he treated his husband? And why were they insisting that he was doing so horribly? Really, it wasn't his fault if Blaine wasn't happy. What was he supposed to do about that?

As he walked up the stairs, he could hear laughter. He turned around, only to see Blaine and the servant boy from before,  walking down the hallway . The boy had said something, and Blaine...

Blaine was laughing, his head thrown back, and even from the distance Sebastian could see his eyes sparkling. He froze, unable to take his eyes off the scene, even if it meant that he might get caught staring. Those first few months – or weeks, maybe – he had been able to make Blaine laugh like that, but not anymore. He wasn't exactly sure when he had even heard the sound the last time.

Somehow, Sebastian managed to break himself out of the staring. He turned away and walked upstairs. All he wanted right now was a bath and not having to worry about his marriage, or how he had to take care of his behavior.  It was a stupid waste of time, anyway.

* * *

Blaine was almost happy as he sat down for the feast. The last few days had been... confusing,  if he was honest with himself . He had gotten used to the way people treated him around here, not like a member of the family but more like some sort of exotic pet Sebastian had acquired in the north – not that Sebastian had ever gotten anywhere near the north... But ever since the servants from Dalton had come, things had changed. Even Hunter had been pleasant to him, which had turned out to be really creepy.

Sebastian on the other hand had been ridiculously moody ever since he had returned from the hunting trip. There were a lot of meaningful looks between Sebastian and his brother and father. Something must have really ruined his mood, although Blaine wasn't sure whether that had been since the hunting trip or because Blaine now actually had people paying attention to him.

But really, Blaine found that he didn't care at the moment. Even with his mood always on the brink of an explosion, Sebastian hadn't lashed out once. It wasn't that hard to figure out what was going on here. They were probably worried what the servants would tell Earl Anderson once they returned to Dalton. Blaine had no idea why they even bothered. He couldn't imagine his father caring about whatever treatment he received here. But if it made things easier on him for at least a few days, then he would take it.

And then there was Kurt.

When Kurt had left that night  over a year ago,  when they'd been at the chapel, Blaine had been sure that they'd never meet again. Even now, it was only for a few days, but it was way more than Blaine ever could have hoped to be granted. It was a relief from this place. It had been ages since he'd had somebody he could actually talk to, someone who cared enough to listen.

It was like an oasis, to have Kurt here, with his smiles and comments, his casual touches,  given out of care and not just lust , the way he looked at Blaine. It made his heart beat faster, even as he felt calmer than he had in ages. It might be harder once Kurt left again, and it made Blaine question things he thought he had come to terms with ages ago... but he'd be able to deal with it. The time was almost over, and it would be hard to let go. But these few days had been just what he needed, something to help him refresh his energy. He would be fine from now on, at least for a while. These days would be something he could draw strength from.

So as he sat beside Sebastian, he could actually feel relaxed. Maybe tomorrow already things would look different, but for now it was fine.

Beside him, Sebastian downed his cup of wine in one gulp and refilled it.

Blaine frowned, as he watched his husband drink. This wasn't a promising start. With a sigh, he looked around the small hall. The Smythe family was gathered here, only the two girls hadn't come to visit. All influential knights – and those who hoped to become that – were gathered for the feast, although Blaine had no illusion that their presence had anything to do with him personally, but was something they did for Lord Smythe's favor. Still, the hall was so filled that he could almost pretend to himself that this was a genuine celebration.

The first course was served, and Blaine was hit by a wave of delicious smell. The spices and herbs reminded him of home, the taste was even better. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see himself back at Dalton. He felt the smile appearing on his face. Just maybe, this would actually be good.  
  
The food was perfect, almost like a small journey back home. He even only drank diluted wine, as he didn't want to dull any part of the experience.

It could have been amazing.

But of course, there was Sebastian. Blaine had lost count of how many cups of wine he had already drunk, while he watched over the feast with a dark expression. At first, Blaine tried to ignore him, but as the evening progressed, Sebastian started to comment on everything from the taste to the temperature to the fact that he had to be here in the first place.

“Kills you, doesn't it?” Blaine asked once the servants had brought a cake for dessert. “A whole evening about me, people who actually care... and you have to be on your best behavior. Not that you're really sticking to that...” He threw a glance at the cup of wine that Sebastian had just been about to drink.

“I drink whenever I want,” Sebastian said with a glare, although he put the cup down.

Blaine sighed. “Can you at least try to behave yourself? At least while the people from Dalton are here?” He had managed so well so far. He didn't expect his family to back him up in any way. The least thing he was hoping for was to keep his face, to not let them see just how bad he was doing here. Kurt suspected, of course, but he didn't have any concrete idea, and as far as Blaine was concerned, that was good enough. Tomorrow they'd leave, and he'd probably go back to how it had been before, but at least his dignity would bee intact – if only Sebastian managed to behave himself for one evening.

It was doomed, Blaine didn't even know what he had been thinking. Of course, this wouldn't work.

“You really like this, don't you?” Sebastian asked, his voice already slurring a bit.. “All about this, playing the martyr. Evil Sebastian is such a failure as a spouse, and you're the poor innocent soul who has to bear with him. You should have been an actor, love, because you're actually playing the hell out of this. Even my father is eating this shit up...”

“You're blaming me for your father being disappointed in you?” Blaine asked. “That's your own doing, Sebastian. He didn't expect that much from you. _I_ didn't expect that much from you, either, but he wanted even less. Seriously, all he asked of you was to be discreet, and you couldn't even do that.”

“You know what, Blaine?” Sebastian asked, and downed the cup before smashing it on the table. “Go to hell.”

“What are you doing?” Blaine hissed, but it was too late. Sebastian was already walking away. Blaine sank deeper into his chair. Even the taste of home couldn't compete with the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Of course it would go wrong.

* * *

Kurt leaned back against a pillar, letting his eyes drift over the crowd. To his satisfaction even these southerners seemed happy enough with the food from Dalton. It was the first feast that had been under Kurt's management, and now that the last of it had been delivered, Kurt took a moment to see how it was received.

Or that was what he told himself. Of course, the most important question was how _Blaine_ liked it. Kurt hoped that the food would make him feel like home, the taste remind him of Dalton and happier times. But that hope was quickly disappointed. While he knew that Blaine had eaten every scrap, the young lord didn't look happy at all. Kurt watched as he talked to Sebastian, who wouldn't let go of his cup of wine. The longer they talked, the darker Blaine's mood seemed to get. Kurt wasn't close enough to hear what they were talking about, but even from where he was, he could see the bitterness in both of their faces.

He flinched, as Sebastian slammed the cup onto the table and stood up. Blaine looked as if he wanted to disappear into the chair, while Sebastian made his way through the hall, up to the exit.

Kurt's eyes widened. What kind of behavior was that even? Who left their spouse alone on their birthday feast?

On the way out, Sebastian passed a boy, one of the few male kitchen servants the Smythes employed and whose name Kurt couldn't remember. To his surprise, Sebastian stopped to exchange a few words. Kurt just wondered where that was coming from, after all the Smythes hadn't given the impression that the cared a lot about the relations to servants.

The next thing he knew, Sebastian had looked back to the family's table, trying to meet Blaine's eye before he grabbed the boy's shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him as if his life depended on it.

Kurt gasped, staring at the scene for a moment, before he could tear his eyes off it. He saw the reactions from some of the knights around them – most of them looked just exasperated or even faintly disgusted. But it didn’t mater what they thought. As if drawn by magnets, Kurt's eyes found Blaine.

He was looking at Sebastian and that boy, as if he was seeing through them. To his surprise, Kurt didn't see pain, just bitterness and... exhaustion maybe? Humiliation? It was hard to tell.

Sebastian had finally decided he needed some air and had separated from the boy. He turned around, looked right at Blaine, smirked – and went right back to what he was doing before. And Blaine...

Blaine downed the cup before him, refilled it with wine and drank again. He grimaced, which hopefully meant that this wasn't his normal drinking behavior, and then he stood up and just stormed out, the double door falling shut loudly.

Sebastian looked up from his boy, almost triumphantly back to the table. Kurt frowned and followed his line of sight. Why would he look back at the table? Hadn't he noticed Blaine had already left? But when he looked to the table where the Smythe family was sitting, Kurt realized that it was Lord Smythe he was looking at, and the lord was glaring back at his son with such an intense expression of fury, that Kurt almost felt terrified himself. Sebastian on the other hand just smirked wider, before he grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him out of the hall.

Kurt shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. What did he care about Sebastian and Smythe family politics? Blaine was out there, and he should not be alone right now.

Good for him then, that Kurt had no intention to leave him alone again. And he already had an idea where to find him...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but once again I needed a bit of a break.   
> So here's the next chapter, illuminating a bit on how the last year went for Blaine at the Smythe castle. As you can imagine, it hasn't been a good year for him.

* * *

Even now at night, it was easy to find his way in the Smythe castle. There were lanterns everywhere, lighting the place in a way that couldn't possibly be necessary. Kurt didn't care about it at the moment, though, apart from the fact that it helped him navigate through the castle. He had to find Blaine, and he wasn't interested in getting lost in this place.

In a way, Blaine was predictable. At Dalton, when he had gotten upset, he had hidden in the garden or the chapel. Even at the capital, that was where he had found comfort. And while they hadn't looked inside before, Kurt could still remember where the Smythe's chapel was. He had no doubt that Blaine would be there.

But as he arrived there, he found that the door was locked. Kurt stared at it, pulled at it again, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning, Kurt stepped back. If Blaine hadn't come here... then where would he be?

He tried to think back on which places Blaine had mentioned, or had sounded fond of. The first two things that came to his mind were the library and the stables. Maybe he had gone to see Caverra...

But no, it didn't quite fit... Because that was comfort. That wasn't what Blaine had been looking for. Upset like this, Blaine would have gone to a place where he could be alone, where he wouldn't have to face anybody.

The library, then.

It took him a moment to remember the outline of the castle and where he had to go, but once he figured it out, it didn't take long for him to get there. He hesitated in front of the door, wondering whether it too would be locked, and where he could go to look if he had been wrong again. But wondering wouldn't help anybody, so Kurt carefully opened the door and slipped into the library.

It was mostly dark, maybe the one place where the Smythe's didn't keep lanterns lit every hour of the day, but there was a small shine that Kurt could see came from a candelabrum, standing on the table at the far end. In its flickering light, Kurt could see a figure huddled in on himself sitting on the broad windowsill underneath the tinted glass. It was Blaine. He had been right.

As Kurt slowly approached, Blaine didn't look up, even turned away further. For a moment, Kurt wondered whether he should be here. The young lord had come here to be on his own, after all... But no, he couldn't let his friend suffer here alone and in silence. It would help him to talk about it, it always had. So Kurt didn't let himself be deterred and kept walking, until he was close enough to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, a sign of his presence, and of support.

Only then did Blaine look up. He didn't even seem surprised when he saw it was Kurt. He looked... tired. Tired, and resigned, sad and ashamed, but there were no tears in his eyes. Kurt remembered the remark Blaine had made about Sebastian and stable boys. This wasn't the first time, he realized, maybe not even the first time it had happened this publicly.

Without hesitating, he sat down on the small space left on the window sill and embraced the young lord. There was maybe a second of resistance, before Blaine melted into him, letting his head rest on Kurt's shoulder. His breathing was harsh, hiccuped a few times, but there were no tears, no sobbing, just silence.

“Is it always like this?” Kurt asked, when he realized that Blaine wasn't going to speak up.

“Not always,” Blaine said, his voice slightly muffled against Kurt's shoulder, “but often enough.”

“He just... publicly? In front of you?”

“He doesn't care,” Blaine said. “I think by now he's slept with every servant at this place who can even slightly be tempted to it. I don't even want to know what he does when he's off with Hunter. He doesn't care if I know. Or maybe he wants me to see.” With a sigh, Blaine withdrew and sank against the stone wall at his back. His eyes were wide, and now there was even deeper pain in them.

“How long has it been like this?” Kurt asked.

“I don't know,” Blaine said, his voice raw, and he put his face between his hands. “It was _fine_ at first. He was...” He stopped for a second, maybe  trying to order his thoughts before he continued. “So, his family treated me like crap from the beginning. They don't take me seriously. I'm not a spouse in their eyes. I'm just some... some kept freak that Sebastian picked up from the north. Not just the family, the servants, too. They treat me like his pet, or his... his _whore_. Even call me that sometimes, when they think I can't hear them.”

“How do they get away with that?” Kurt asked. He felt anger boiling up inside him, as he remembered the way the Smythe servants had joked and laughed, back before he had known how they were mocking Blaine.

The young lord sighed and leaned back against the stone, letting his arms rest beside him. “Because nobody gives a damn. As I said, the family doesn't care. Lord Smythe is the only one who does anything, and that's not about me, that's about the servants knowing their place, or something like that.”

“And what about him? What about Sebastian?” Kurt asked. “You thought it would be okay, and that he would treat you right.”

“I thought so,” Blaine said, “and I was right, at least in the beginning, but...” He stopped, a frown appearing on his face. He looked insecure and almost helpless like this, as if he wasn't sure how to continue.

Kurt took his hand and stroked softly over the skin. “Tell me,” he said softly, “all of it.”

For a moment, Blaine was still hesitating, but then he squeezed back and began to talk again, although he didn't look up, talking to their intertwined hands instead.

“He was different at first. Sebastian, he was... _great_ in the beginning. He was kind and charming. Whatever I wanted, he tried to get it for me before I even had to ask. He got me the finest clothes, made sure that I got to try all kinds of food, and always had a supply of the things I really liked. He took me out riding, showed me the most amazing places. He gave me Caverra, only because I liked her during the few times I took her riding. Then he gave me the library... Well, technically, he didn't give it to me, it was here anyway... I'm just the person who's  using it the most. He got a lot of books, too, that he thought I'd be interested in. He really wanted to take care of me. It was... well, it wasn't perfect, but it was fine at first. I thought I could actually be happy here.”

“Then what happened?” Kurt asked.

Blaine was silent for a while, but then he looked up, his hand falling limp in Kurt's. “I don't know,” he said, his voice small and insecure, “things were good with Sebastian and me, but I didn't get along with the family and everybody else. I think it annoyed him that I was so bothered by it. I  kept asking him to do something about it, but... Well, that would have meant he had to stand up to his father, and nobody here ever manages that.”

Kurt bit his tongue, keeping down the remark that sprang to his mind that things hadn't been that much different at Dalton with Earl Anderson.

“I think he just got bored with me,” Blaine said softly. “His father took him into confidence in the weeks after the union. You see, Lord Smythe broke the Fabray match because he wanted me for his son. He thought for some reason that if Sebastian had me, he might at least stop making a public scandal out of himself at every opportunity. And in the beginning, that even worked. Sebastian was so focused on me that he didn't have time for it. Eventually, Lord Smythe was happy, and Sebastian was getting along better with him, and even his siblings. So he focused more on spending time with them, and scheming with his father. He didn't have time for me anymore, and when I complained, he only stayed away even more. We started to fight, and he started to spend more time with Hunter. I don't even know when he started sleeping with other men, I only know it was going on for a while by the time I even noticed. I thought it was a one time thing, but... well, it wasn't. It kept happening. At first, he tried to pretend nothing was going on, and he even tried to be discreet – not because of me, he just didn't want his father to find out. I was just supposed to take it and be quiet about it. But I couldn’t, so we were fighting, and of course Lord Smythe noticed. Then he stopped confiding in Sebastian, who got angry about that, and he took it out on me. So we fought even more, and the more frustrated he got, the more he drank.... and the more he drank, the less discreet he got, and then of course his father was even angrier at him and...” He stopped, letting his head drop back into his hands. “And so on,” he finished. He looked up at Kurt, and now he seemed completely drained of energy. “So that was my last year,” he said, “and now you know. I'm a joke here, to the family, to the servants... I don't even know what the hell is going on with my so called marriage. And I'm miserable. Just as you said.”

The last sentence pierced right through Kurt's heart, even with how much it had hurt to listen to the rest of it. He had never wanted this, even though he knew perfectly well that his words couldn't have changed anything. Instead, he squeezed Blaine's hand tighter, hoped that this at least would bring some comfort.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Kurt asked. “Why did you try to pretend things were alright?”

Blaine shrugged, not meeting his eye. “I don't know,” he said softly, “I just... You're leaving, and you can't help me. And if it doesn't change anything, then I'd rather you didn't think of me like... like this.”

“Like what?”

Again, Blaine shrugged. “A joke. Weak. Miserable.”

“You're not a joke,” Kurt said, his voice maybe a bit sharper than he intended. “And maybe I can help you, somehow. Does your family know anything about this? Maybe if the knew...”

“My father wouldn't care,” Blaine said, “he's too invested in the alliance. Besides, he'd tell me that nothing happened that I couldn't handle. I should just ignore the talk and the insults and whatever Sebastian's doing. Not like anything really bad happened...”

There was something he wasn't telling. It was so obvious in the way Blaine was looking away. Kurt felt his throat close up, but he couldn't ignore it.

“Did he hurt you?”

He didn't need to hear the answer, it was written all over Blaine's face, as his eyes widened, and the rest of color seemed to fade from his face.

“Blaine...”

“Once,” he said, withdrawing his hand and looking down again as he wrapped his arms around himself. “I couldn't stay, then. I took Caverra, and I just... I just rode, I didn't even know where I was going. But then I realized... I can't just leave. The political situation is too tense. If I just left... then people would think the alliance was broken. Then my family would have to pay for it, and the people of Dalton. So I came back here. I sent a letter to my family. I just... I wanted to get away from here. I thought if I got an invitation from Dalton, they would have to let me go. I just wanted to go home, even for a short while... So I asked. But my family didn't want me, either.”

Kurt remembered the letter, and now it made so much more sense. Blaine should have known that the Earl hadn't forgiven him. Bu t if despair had driven him... of course he would have tried.

“My family can't help me,” Blaine continued, “nobody can. So I have to deal with it, somehow. And I hate it. I'm tired of this, all of it. I don't have anybody here who's on my side. I had Brittany at first, but she was gone before the summer solstice, the moment Lady Santana visited. She didn't even ask, they just told me she'd go with Santana. And the servants here... they're horrible to me, and so's the family. Sebastian is the only person I have who cares at least a bit, but he doesn't know what to do with me either, and I... I can't trust him. That's the thing I can't get over, even if I try to make it work, it doesn't change that I don't trust him, especially when he's drunk. So I have nobody, really. But hey...” He chuckled, although there wasn't much humor in it. “You can't say I wasn't warned.

Kurt couldn't stand it, hearing Blaine like this – so hopeless, so exhausted. But what could he say to make this better? There was nothing, or at least nothing he could think of, so he did the only thing he could  do . He pulled Blaine into an embrace again.  This time, h e went along without even a second of resistance, putting his arms around Kurt as well.

“I'm so sorry,” Kurt whispered into his ear.

Blaine didn't reply, just held on to Kurt as if he was drowning. The only sound coming from the young lord was his harsh breathing. It wasn't until Kurt noticed the dampness in the fabric over his shoulders where Blaine's face rested against him, that he even realized Blaine was crying. But it was understandable. Kurt figured he would cry in his situation as well. He wished he had a solution, something he could do to help Blaine.

He couldn't have  sai d how long they had been sitting there like this, holding onto each other without speaking. Kurt felt his own eyes sting with tears. And here he had thought his heart was done breaking over this boy, instead it had found completely new ways. Eventually, Blaine pulled back, leaning against the stone wall again. He looked beyond exhausted, as if he could pass out any second, but his eyes when he looked up at Kurt were wide, open and vulnerable.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “This isn't what you came here for.”

“I came here for you,” Kurt replied.

Blaine's eyes widened even more, but he slipped his hand into Kurt's, and squeezed it softly. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming, and for being here, and listening...  And being kind. ”

Kurt felt the blush forming in his face, unsure of what to say. But Blaine wasn't expecting an answer. A yawn shook his body, as he leaned back against the stone.

“You should sleep,” Kurt said softly. “I know you feel horrible, but maybe it will be better in the morning.”

“I don't feel that horrible right now,” Blaine said. “And I'd rather not sleep yet.”

“You'll fall over any minute,” Kurt said, trying to sound teasing. “Come on, I'll get you to your quarters, and I'll see you tomorrow, right at sunrise.”

Blaine tensed up while he spoke. “I'd rather not go there,” he said. “I don't... I try to stay out of his way if he’s this drunk. I never know what to expect from him then. Once he actually dragged one of his whores into our bed. I'd rather stay here.”

“Here?” Kurt asked, frowning.

“There are blankets in that cupboard,” Blaine said, pointing to it. “I... it wouldn't be the first time. Besides... you'll be gone tomorrow. I'd rather stay here, with you.”

Warmth blossomed in Kurt's chest, but he forced it down. “Stay right there,” he said, and got up to get blankets. A few minutes later, he had Blaine wrapped up, lying on the wide window sill underneath the colored window. Kurt sat down beside the young lord, letting a hand stroke over the shoulder closer to him, his thumb moving over the exposed skin of his neck.

“Comfortable?” Kurt asked.

Blaine hummed, smiling up at him. “Too comfortable,” he said, “I told you, I don't want to sleep.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “And I told you that you're exhausted,” he said.

“But you're-”

“Blaine!” With a sigh, Kurt moved his hand to cup the young lord's cheek, turning his head a bit so they were squarely looking into each other's eyes. “Stop worrying. I'm here, I've got you, and I'm not leaving you.”

“So, will you stay? Please?” Blaine asked, looking up at him from underneath his lashes. “I don't... I don't want to waste the little time we have.”

Kurt froze. Listening and trying to calm Blaine down, he hadn't thought about how short his stay really would be. But tomorrow morning, he and the rest of the servants from Dalton would begin their journey north, and Blaine would be left alone here once again. This night was all they had before he was going back north. Who knew when he'd see Blaine again? How could he really leave him here, on his own?

All Kurt knew was that he didn't want to waste the little time they had, either. He wished it wasn't this little time in the first place. His eyes flickered down to Blaine's lips, and he thought back to their goodbye at the capital, that last desperate kiss. He wished he had stayed longer, shared more than one kiss. But it hadn't felt right then, and he didn't feel right now. He still cared about Blaine so much, still felt so deeply for him. But Blaine wasn't his, and besides, what he needed now was comfort.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked carefully, trying not to let his thoughts shine through his voice.

Blaine looked up, right into his eyes. “I just... Talk to me? I really want to hear your voice. Tell me something of the north. And... maybe...” He hesitated, not sure if he could continue.

He didn't need to. Kurt knew him well enough. Without another word, he lay down beside him and put his arms around the young lord, pulling him close.

Blaine held the blanket up and scooted closer, before covering the both of them. Kurt held him close, as he began a story he knew from Lima.

He hadn't had many opportunities to hold Blaine, and none of them had felt this intimate, huddled together under the same blanket, only the flickering of candles illuminating the room. Maybe he would be missed in the servant quarters tonight, but he doubted that he'd get into trouble. For now it was more important that Blaine needed him here, and to make the best of the little time they had left.

When the story ended, Kurt realized that Blaine had fallen asleep. For a moment, he wondered whether he should wake the young lord, use the little time better than by sleeping. But Blaine looked so exhausted, and Kurt needed to think. He needed to find a way to help. There just had to be a better way than leaving Blaine alone with these horrible people...

And so he let his thoughts wander, calmed down by the soft gusts of Blaine's breath against his skin. He had to find a way.

* * *

Blaine woke up underneath the colored glass of the library window. For a moment, he just enjoyed the calm, the warmth coming from the sunlight shining through the glass. Despite the... unpleasantness of what happened at the feast, he'd actually had a good night's sleep. He felt rested and comfortable, and he knew this was mostly because of Kurt, who had been there for him, who had held him...

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up quickly. He remembered falling asleep to Kurt’s story, but now as he looked around the library, he couldn't spot the other boy. His pulse quickened, as he stood up. There was no sign of Kurt, no message, nothing. Blaine felt suddenly very cold. He remembered that the servants from Dalton would start their journey back north early. Had Kurt already left? Had he gone packing? But he wouldn't have left without saying goodbye first. That was the one thought Blaine held onto, trying to calm the fear running through his veins. He quickly stashed away the blankets, then ran a hand through his hair to get them back into order, before he stepped outside.

But no matter how much he looked, he couldn't find anybody from Dalton. He was just on his way to go to the servants' quarters, when Kitty crossed his way. Usually, Blaine would go out of his way to not talk to her – he couldn't forget how she had betrayed Quinn when he'd been her maidservant. But now, he needed to know.

“Kitty, where are the people from Dalton?”

She rolled her eyes as he spoke to her, but kept her tongue under control. “They left,” she said, “it's a long journey north and they didn't want to waste time. Is there anything else?”

The fear and cold from before took hold of him again, but he couldn't let her see. “That's all,” he said, trying to sound dismissive, before he turned away from the girl and kept walking.

It didn't make sense. Kurt wouldn't have just left... He would have woken him, said goodbye, or at least left him a message. But here had been nothing. How could this be?

Blaine hadn't even noticed where he was walking until he found himself at the stables. Ignoring the stable boys, he walked up to Caverra's box. For a second, he considered riding north, trying to catch up with Kurt and the others. But he didn't know how long ago they had left, and even if he met up with them, what was he possibly to say? So he took a brush instead, hoping that focusing on his horse would make him forget how awful he felt.

After a while, he heard voices from the stable door, one of them Sebastian's. He didn't need to look up to hear his heavy footsteps approaching, or to see him out of the corner of his eye as he stopped a few feet away from him. If Sebastian was waiting for a sign of acknowledgment, he could wait for a long time. Blaine didn't look at hm, just brushed through Caverra's hair. He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually Sebastian spoke.

“I brought you something.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Of course you did,” he said, still not looking at his husband.

“Won't you at least look?”

Blaine sighed. “What for?” he asked.

“I had it sent here from the capital. It's for your birthday,” Sebastian said.

If he could go just from what he wanted, Blaine would have told him to get lost. But he was alone again, and it wasn't smart to antagonize Sebastian, not in his situation. So he turned, although he still frowned.

Sebastian was holding a book, heavy and bound in leather. He could read the word “metamorphoses” written in what looked like golden script on it. It looked precious, certainly it had been expensive. The thought was even more tiring.

“It's an old Illyrian epos,” Sebastian said. He almost sounded shy, as he extended his arms, offering the book. “You like to read stuff like that.”

Blaine took it, but he couldn't manage to feel any enthusiasm. It was a nice gesture, but he had gotten tired of gestures. And how could a gift possibly make up for humiliating him like this last night?

“I didn't get to wish you the best for your birthday,” Sebastian said. The shyness couldn't fool Blaine anymore, though. He always sounded like this when he apologized.

“You had ample opportunity,” Blaine said, “but you were too busy with the wine. And that boy.”

“Come on, Blaine...” Sebastian groaned. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“What did you think you were doing, then?” Blaine asked. “I only wanted to save face in front of people who've known me for years. But you wouldn't even give me that much.”

“I was stressed, okay? You know how tense things are politically, I'm under a lot of pressure here. Besides, do you expect me to be happy when for days everybody keeps lecturing me on what a horrible husband I am?”

“So you decided to prove them wrong by publicly kissing somebody on the celebration of my birthday? I don't really see the logic in there,” Blaine said, frowning.

“It wasn't about logic, I told you, it was just too much pressure,” Sebastian said. “And look, does it really matter? I made a mistake, I'm sorry... why can't you just let it go?”

“Because you always make mistakes, and you're always sorry, and if I forgive you now, it'll be two weeks at the most before you do something like this again,” Blaine said. “I'm tired of it. All I wanted was a few days with someone who actually cares about me. And you had to ruin that, too.”

“This is about that kitchen servant, isn't it?” Sebastian asked, and Blaine could literally hear his temper flaring up. “Is that the boy you told me about?”

“I didn't tell you about anybody,” Blaine said, not wanting to answer the question, “you've just jumped to conclusions. And he's my friend, that's all.” He sighed. “It doesn't matter, anyway. He's left already.”

“Yeah, well-”

Blaine never found out what he was going to say next. A servant boy came hurrying into the stable. Blaine recognized him as the servant boy from last night's feast, and it felt like a punch to the stomach.

“What?!” Sebastian hissed, glaring at the boy. Clearly, there wasn't much tenderness lost between them, but that didn't make Blaine feel any better.

“Your father wishes to see you, Mylord,” the boy said. “Immediately.”

“Fine,” Sebastian said, before turning back to Blaine. “We'll talk about this later,” he said, before turning around to leave, the servant following him.

Blaine sighed, turning back to Caverra. They might talk, but he knew it wouldn't change anything. It never did. He put the book onto a stool standing close by, before he took up the brush again and continued to stroke Caverra's hair.

He shouldn't be upset. He had known that Kurt wasn't here to stay. It had still been wonderful to have him here, even for a few days. He had been shown kindness again, and warmth. It never could have been more than an interlude, and now it was over. He'd deal with it, just as he had planned to do from the moment he’d heard there was a time limit.

Still, was it that much to ask for a little more than Kurt just leaving while he was asleep?

With a sigh, he put his arms around Caverra's neck, let his face rest against he hair.

“I only wanted a goodbye,” he said softly. “I just wanted him to say goodbye.”

“I'm sorry, but that can't be done.”

Blaine's head shot up, his eyes wide. He had heard right, that was Kurt, standing right behind him, a proud little smile on his lips.

“ _Kurt_?”

“The very same,” he said, stepping a bit closer.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asked weakly. “I thought you already left for Dalton.”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt said. “I had to take care of some things, or I would have stayed until you woke up.”

“You could have woken me,” Blaine said.

“You looked peaceful,” Kurt replied, “and besides, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not saying goodbye, Blaine. I'm not leaving you here.”

Blaine's mouth went dry. “But... I told you... I have to stay here.”

“I know,” Kurt said, “and so will I.”

“What?” Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing.

But Kurt just smiled at him. “I talked to Emma, she'll explain it to the countess when they're back at Dalton. And I got permission from Lord Smythe, so that's not a problem, either. I'm not going back north. I'll stay here, with you.”

Blaine stared at him in disbelief. “But you said... you said you couldn't stay here.”

Kurt shrugged. “I thought I couldn't. But then I realized... I couldn't stand going back to Dalton, not when I know that you're here and that you're suffering. Maybe this will help you, too. You said they were more careful when we were here – maybe they'll continue when someone from Dalton stays here.”

“You'd do that for me?” Blaine asked, his voice weak.

Kurt nodded, although his expression grew more serious. “I won't leave you here,” he said. “You need somebody who's on your side, and I'm here for you. You've got me.”

Blaine couldn't help it. He surged forward, pulling Kurt into a hug. He didn't even care if anybody saw them now, he was too overwhelmed. All the fear and hurt from earlier melted away as Kurt's arms closed around him.

He knew it wouldn't be alright, just because Kurt was here. He knew that his friend was making a huge sacrifice, and the responsible thing would be to convince him to go back home. But he couldn't, because right now, he could only focus on one thing.

He wasn't alone anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

This night, Blaine didn't hide out in the library. He hadn't seen much of Sebastian since his husband had been called to Lord Smythe – he hadn't missed him, either. All day, he had felt so much lighter than he had in over a year, maybe even longer. He couldn't care about the spectacle Sebastian had made of his birthday feast, or of that servant boy – who really was only one among dozens – and he didn't care, either, on how the Smythe family and their servants talked about him. It didn't matter, because now he had somebody in his corner, somebody who cared about him.

It wasn't that he felt invincible, but he felt good, and that was already more than he thought he could expect.

Kurt wouldn't have to work too much for the first two weeks so he could get used to the new place. Blaine couldn't show him much that he hadn't already seen, so they had spent the day talking, drinking tea, and walking over the castle grounds. The last few days had been amazing enough, but now it was even better. Before, he couldn't have forgotten that Kurt was going to leave soon. Now, his friend was going to stay.

When Blaine retired this evening, he felt like there was a warm glow inside of him. They had shared some dinner at the library, away from prying eyes in a relaxed atmosphere, and Kurt had told him more stories from the north, and of his family – Cooper, mostly. It had been relaxing, calming... As Blaine climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over himself, he could just lie back and let the darkness wash over him.

He was almost asleep when the door was thrown open with a bang. Sebastian had stepped inside, and one look in his face told Blaine that he was furious. He gulped, and tried to tell himself that the rapid pounding of his heart wasn't fear.

But then, Sebastian looked up and saw him. The anger started to fade from his face, even though he still didn't look exactly happy.

“You're here,” he said, his voice almost incredulous, and maybe slightly hopeful.

“I am,” Blaine said, not sure what to say.

“I thought...” Sebastian shook his head “No, it's stupid. Of course you're not.”

“What are you talking about? What would I be?” Blaine asked.

“Nothing,” Sebastian said, “It's just... it's been a long day, and Hunter is just too good at getting under my skin.” He came closer, slowly discarding his clothes as he walked to the bed. He didn't say anything else until he slipped under the covers, but as soon as he did, he turned to his side. His hand stroked Blaine's cheek, then wandered down his neck over his chest.

With a sigh, Blaine turned away from him. “Don't,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper.

There was a moment of hesitation, and when Sebastian spoke, there were already the first traces of irritation in his voice. “Why not?”

“Maybe because yesterday you publicly kissed someone else, and I can only assume took them to bed afterwards. This bed, which is mine too, so... That's why not.”

“I apologized! Do you have any idea how much I paid for that book for you?” Sebastian asked, getting louder now.

“It's your father's money, anyway,” Blaine said, unimpressed. “And I thought it was my birthday gift, not an apology. Or was it your plan to disrespect me like this – on my birthday?”

“That's completely ridiculous. Why do you have to be like this?” Sebastian asked, now completely irritated, and maybe on his way to angry.

“Me?” Blaine turned around again, unable to keep in his outrage. “You don't get it, do you? You keep cheating on me, you keep betraying me, and then you turn around and say I'm the one at fault?”

“I said I was sorry!” Sebastian hissed. “And we wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't so damn distant!”

“I'm distant because you keep doing this,” Blaine replied, trying to keep his voice in check, “and I'm distant because I can't trust you.”

Sebastian's hand closed around Blaine's arm like a vice. “You're mine!”

He was almost shouting now, and Blaine felt all his muscles go rigid. He shouldn't have come here, he shouldn't be...

Sebastian stared at him, and all of a sudden, the anger faded, his grip around Blaine's arm loosened.

“You're mine,” he repeated softly, as if he was speaking to himself. “You're my husband. I don't want to fight all the time. But we do, and if we're not fighting, we're avoiding each other.” He frowned, and for a moment, Blaine could have felt sorry for him – if the last year hadn't happened, if Sebastian had stood up for him to his family, if Sebastian hadn't hurt him, or didn't scare him sometimes. “Where did we go wrong? Why can't we be happy?”

Blaine didn't answer, unsure what he should say. Maybe he could have felt more compassion for Sebastian if this had been the first time they had a conversation like this. But even that had run stale.

“You're mine,” Sebastian said again, now more insistent, as if saying it could compel Blaine to obey. “You promised to be mine. You made a vow!”

Blaine could hardly remember what he had vowed during the ceremony of their union. When he thought back, all he could remember was the panic of these few days that had turned his life upside down. “I made a lot of vows that day,” he said softly, “and so did you. I believe you've broken all of them.”

“Like you've never broken a vow,” Sebastian said bitterly.

“What vow did I break?” Blaine asked.

“You vowed to love me, for example,” Sebastian said.

Blaine looked at him in surprise. It wasn't what he had expected. Maybe this was part of the problem, that he didn't understand what Sebastian was thinking, why he acted the way he did. Did Sebastian really want his love, after all that had happened during the last year? Then why did he sleep around? Or maybe he was like a child, just wanting Blaine to be his exclusively, while he himself could go and play with whatever toy he wanted...

“I tried,” Blaine said eventually. “I did, but... maybe we just don't have what it takes. Maybe we never could have worked it out.”

“It's not over,” Sebastian said, “we're still here. You're still mine. Maybe we can make it better.”

Blaine sighed. He felt tired in a way he couldn't have explained. “You won't change who you are,” he said, “and neither will I. We're stuck here, in this situation and with each other.”

Sebastian was looking at him in a way, that once upon a time he might have called heart-broken. Now... he was exhausted.

“Do you love him?” Sebastian asked. “That servant boy. Hunter says you've been sleeping with him.” For a second he hesitated, as if afraid to ask. “Have you?”

Blaine looked up, meeting Sebastian's eye directly. “Never,” he said, glad that he could answer truthfully, and hoping that Sebastian would forget the first question over it.

For a moment, he thought that Sebastian would ask further, but no inquiry came.

“We're not over yet,” Sebastian said, instead. “I can be better, you know I can.”

Blaine had heard it too often to believe it, but he was too tired to discuss it any further. There was no point to it, either.

“We'll see,” he said instead.

For a moment, they were silent, and then Sebastian lifted his hand again, stroking it over Blaine's arm.

“No,” Blaine said softly, looking directly into Sebastian's eyes. For a moment, the worry flared up again.

Sebastian hesitated, then he turned around, away from him. Blaine lay back down as well, alert for a while, not trusting the peace. But eventually, he turned away from Sebastian, too, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him. Behind him, he could hear from Sebastian's breathing that he hadn't fallen asleep, either, but neither of them spoke again. He was awake for what felt like hours. By the time dawn broke, he felt more exhausted than before.

* * *

The first week of his stay at Smythe castle was almost at an end, allowing Kurt to re-evaluate the impression he had gotten of the place. At first glance, he had immediately disliked it here, even more when he had found just how bad things were for Blaine. But if he had thought that a closer contact to the castle and especially its people would improve his opinion, he was sorely disappointed.

The servants were horrible. Probably they weren't actually bad people if they were considered individually, but the whole castle was filled with a toxic atmosphere. The Smythe family treated their servants like pawns in a game of chess, encouraging them to snitch each other out and work against each other, trying to gain the nobility's favor. And even in this one week he had noticed the gossip. Sure, they had talked a lot at Dalton, too, had shared stories of the noble family, visitors, the other servants... but it had been mostly harmless. The Smythes' servants were simply vicious, and they didn't seem to care much about who heard them, or whether their target was one of their own or one of their masters.

And then, of course, there was the Smythe family themselves. Even with the little contact Kurt had with them, it didn't take him long to realize that he didn't dislike them – he loathed them. He wasn't even sure who was the worst, Lord Smythe with his smug snake attitude, Hunter Smythe, who sneered and taunted Blaine whenever he got the chance, Lady Smythe whose nose was so far up in the air that it was a surprise she even had a sense of smell, or Sebastian Smythe. Well, this was a lie, Sebastian was definitely the worst.

Sebastian's behavior had become erratic, his moods swinging from angry to sad with anything in between. One day, he glared at everything and wouldn't spare even a glance at Blaine. Maybe the same day, he'd start to get clingy, not leaving Blaine's side, and trying to get him to spend more time alone together. In between, he would walk around the castle, brooding and watching, not letting Blaine out of his eyes.

Kurt thought it was unnerving, and more than a bit creepy. Blaine just seemed annoyed, but he didn't protest this behavior. Mostly, when Sebastian was concerned, he seemed weirdly resigned.

“Sometimes he's acting like he's a dragon, locking the princess in a tower,” Kurt said.

Today, he and Blaine were taking a walk in the gardens. They were beautiful, sure, but Blaine had mentioned that he didn't spend too much time in them. The knights apparently liked to take their walks here, and Blaine tried to avoid them whenever he could.

“He'll get over it,” Blaine said with a sigh. “Maybe Hunter will take him along when he finally leaves.”

“Why is Hunter even still here?” Kurt asked. “Doesn't he have some place to rule? Cooper never stayed at Dalton this long.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Hunter... He wants to stay close whenever he can, just so he can remind his father that he's superior to Sebastian. He has his issues.”

“Everybody here has issues,” Kurt said.

“It's the south,” Blaine said with a shrug.

Kurt tried to hide his smile, or at least not let it show completely. It wasn't a happy subject, but he couldn't help but notice that Blaine sounded lighter, happier when they talked. Everything wasn't alright, he knew that, and it was obvious from the way Blaine tried to avoid spending too much time with his husband. But the young lord seemed to be better than he had been before, and Kurt liked to think that he was part of that change.

It was also nice that his duties at the kitchen were minimal. It was quite obvious that he was mostly seen as Blaine's servant, and nobody expected him to do much actual work beyond that. He certainly didn't mind, and Blaine too, seemed happy with this arrangement.

Sebastian wasn't, but Kurt couldn't have cared less about him if he had tried.

“And speak of the devil,” Blaine muttered.

Kurt looked up, and saw Hunter Smythe walking towards them. “What does he want?” he asked quietly.

“Annoy us?” Blaine guessed.

“Well, isn't that sweet?” Hunter asked, stopping in front of them. He wasn't even looking at Kurt. Servants weren't to be seen, after all. Not that the way he looked at Blaine was any more charitable. “My brother's whore found a pet of his own. Heartwarming, really.”

Kurt felt his jaw drop. So much for the assumption that having someone from Dalton here would mean people would stay on a better behavior... But that wasn't just Hunter, that was everybody. It made sense, somehow. Before, they were afraid that the servants from Dalton would return north, telling the earl how his son was treated. Kurt was going to stay, so whatever he learned now wasn't as dangerous. Of course, they were ignoring quite obvious methods of communication – like letters.

Blaine was glaring at Hunter, and Kurt could see his fists were clenched. The anger was etched into Blaine's face, but he didn't speak of it.

“What do you want, Hunter?” he asked, the strain clear in his voice.

“Trust me, I'm not here out of my deep desire to spend any time with you,” he said. “Father is sending for you. For some reason he wants to talk to you. And tell your pet here that an open mouth is impolite.”

Kurt closed his mouth, caught somewhere between self-conscious and furious.

„How about you don't talk about him like that? Or finally learn that you can actually talk to people directly if you want something from them?“Blaine asked.

It felt satisfying, to hear his friend stand up to Hunter, even if it was on such a small matter, and even if Hunter didn't seem exactly impressed.

“And you're even defending him, how cute,” Hunter said, rolling his eyes. “Just go see father, he has more important things to do than waste his time waiting for you.”

“Unlike you, who seems to have all the time in the world to waste,” Blaine said.

Now, Hunter did react, glaring at Blaine in a way that made Kurt uneasy, but that the young lord didn't seem to care about.

Before Hunter could regain control over himself or the situation, Blaine had turned around and started to walk back to the castle. It took Kurt a second to go with the program and follow him, but in that moment, he could definitely appreciate the look on Hunter’s face. He wondered whether his was the first time Blaine had talked back to him...

“What do you think he wants?” Kurt asked.

“I'm not sure,” Blaine said, “maybe he wants to give me a lecture on 'fraternizing with the servants'. Or maybe he just wants to talk politics. He hasn't done that in a while, but maybe he changed his mind on that again. I just know that I do not like talking to him.”

“I can't believe anybody would,” Kurt said.

“Me neither,” Blaine said.

“I'll go see if there's work in the kitchen,” Kurt said, “but I'll go see you later, when you're done with whatever he wants from you?”

Blaine nodded. “It probably won't be too bad,” he said, then he turned left and went up the stairs, while Kurt stared to make his way to the kitchens. He had shown a brave face, but he couldn't help but be worried. What could Lord Smythe want?

* * *

Lord Smythe was brooding over papers when Blaine entered, and at first didn't even seem to notice him. Blaine wasn't convinced of it. With Lord Smythe, he understood that it was always safer to assume that he as aware of way more than he let on. Still, Blaine took the chance and looked over the paper. It was a letter, and to his surprise he could even recognize the handwriting as the erratic scribblings of Lady Sylvester, one of the most influential rulers of the northern part of the kingdom. Lord Smythe was frowning, clearly not happy with what he was reading.

“It's the taxes,” Blaine said, not willing to play along with the charade of not being noticed.

Lord Smythe looked up, watching him with a calculating expression. “What is the taxes?” he asked, nodding towards the chair, indicating Blaine should sit. After a second of hesitation, Blaine followed the silent instruction.

“The king's taxing the north way too much,” he said. “I know that nobody down here cares much about taxes, but in the north, they're very important. When the north first was assimilated into the kingdom, the taxes were the point that almost made them decline and restart the war. They see taxes as a direct attack on their honor and pride. Every time they're collected, and much more every time they're raised, the north remembers the humiliation of being defeated. There's no easier way to rile them up.”

Lord Smythe was watching him now full of interest. It was a look Blaine hadn't seen in a long time. Even before, whenever the Lord had try to pick his mind for a northern perspective on things, he'd usually seemed disappointed or uninterested. Blaine stopped, not sure how to deal with this reaction.

“Keep talking,” Lord Smythe said, gesturing for him to continue.

“Well... there's not much more to tell,” Blaine said, “I haven't talked to northern lords in some time. But I know that the taxes are an extremely sore spot. If you want to calm this situation, you need to advise the king to lower them.”

“That's it then?” Lord Smythe asked. His voice was colored with disbelief. “Taxes? That's their breaking point? That's _it_?”

“It's not everything,” Blaine said quickly. “There's also been a lot of disrespect lately. You can't just treat them like second class citizens and then lower the taxes and think they won't explode eventually. But right now, the taxes are what you have to work on.”

“They're the trigger point...” Lord Smythe shook his head. “Unbelievable... It does make sense, though. It explains a lot. That I didn't think of it...” He sighed. “I really should have kept picking your brain, shouldn't I? That would have saved me a lot of useless planning. Taxes... who would have guessed?” He was smirking now, and Blaine couldn't help but shudder at the sight. Whatever was going through Lord Smythe's mind, it surely was nothing good.

“There still has to be better diplomacy,” he tried again. It certainly seemed as if the taxes were everything Lord Smythe was focusing on.

But now, Lord Smythe waved, gesturing for him to be silent. “Obviously, they have lots of issues. But the taxes being the key...” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Simple. Elegant. I can't believe I haven’t thought of it yet.” When he looked up, there was a broad grin on his face. “We'll make a politician out of you yet.”

“I'd rather not,” Blaine said. He wasn't sure where all this was coming from. For a while, Lord Smythe had tried to meet him regularly, get a northern perspective to the strained diplomatic relationships. But the things Blaine could tell him hadn't made much of an impact with Lord Smythe. It didn't help that he had started to really dislike the way the southerners talked about the north – too much arrogance, not nearly enough honest attempts at real compromises. It had felt wrong to help with their schemes, no matter how small his contributions had been. And even though Dalton was officially a part of the south, even more now, after his union, with everybody calling him a northerner, Blaine was starting to feel like one.

Lord Smythe was watching him closely. “Your father really has missed tons of opportunities with you,” he said. “Let me tell you, if it was one of my sons in a position like yours, they'd be immersed into the political proceedings. None of this sitting around in the library, ignoring the events of the world.”

“I've been given the impression I'm little more than a pet,” Blaine said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I wasn't aware my participation was wanted.”

“You'll never get anywhere if you let that deter you,” Lord Smythe said. “Your father is an interesting man. Smart, honorable... and very blind in many aspects. He really put all his hope into his first-born, didn't he? What a curious approach. What if something had happened to your brother? Or what if he had done what you did? Then your father wouldn't have anything left...”

“I'm not sure you're qualified to judge other families' strategies,” Blaine said, “just look at your sons. They hate each other. They'd do anything to upstage each other as your favorite.”

“Ah, yes, Hunter's and Sebastian's little competition,” Lord Smythe said, chuckling. “That _is_ amusing.”

“And you’re encouraging it, even,” Blaine said. “Don't you see what you're doing to them?” He wasn't sure what he was doing himself. He never talked to Lord Smythe like this, always tried to show the necessary respect, or at least never give the impression he was trying to oppose him.

“Of course I can see it. Competition isn’t a harmful thing, boy. It allows us to unlock our biggest potentials. And it is amusing to watch them fight over who's my favorite.” He hesitated, before he smirked at Blaine. “Do you know? Can you tell who my favorite is?”

Blaine frowned. “You don't have one,” he said.

“Oh?” Lord Smythe looked at him in surprise. “Elaborate.”

“You don't have a permanent favorite, your priority changes whenever one of them does something you approve or disapprove of strongly,” Blaine said. “But that can change within a day. It's nothing permanent. Although...”

“Although what?” Lord Smythe asked.

“I think you like Sebastian better,” Blaine said.

“And why is that?”

“Because he's smarter than Hunter, more creative. It's just his temper that takes from his usefulness. Besides... you're never this disappointed in Hunter.”

“I don't have to be,” Lord Smythe said, “because Hunter doesn't give me any reason to be disappointed. But that's been a nice analysis. You aren't a completely lost case. Although I still believe that you're a mine of wasted potential.”

“I assume I'm not here to listen to your insults,” Blaine said, trying to reign in his glare.

Lord Smythe frowned and looked up, as if he had to think about why Blaine was here, if there really was a reason for this summoning. It was completely obvious that it was all for show.

“I did want to talk to you,” Lord Smythe said, still pretending to think about it. “Has Sebastian apologized for his behavior already?”

“He has,” Blaine said carefully, eying Lord Smythe suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

“You're aware of the political connections,” Lord Smythe said. “Our alliance with your family is important, and you're an essential part of it. Those visitors from Dalton have reminded me that your treatment here hasn't been the best. That's mostly on Sebastian, of course, but we both know it's more than that. You should be more at home here.”

“You only care because there's someone from Dalton staying here,” Blaine said, now not caring whether Lord Smythe would see his glare.

Of course, Lord Smythe didn't seem to care, as he continued to speak in a pleasant voice,  smiling again . It did nothing to make Blaine relax. Like all of Lord Smythe's smiles it looked just a tad bit too cold to be real. “Your servant, yes. I hope he's arranging himself well?”

“He has no complaints,” Blaine said. He hadn't been off his guard before, but now he felt even more worried. He wasn't sure what his father by law wanted with Kurt, but there was no way he'd say anything that would put his friend further into Lord Smythe's focus.

“I assume it's nice for you, having a familiar face around,” Lord Smythe said. “Someone you knew from your former home.”

“It is,” Blaine said. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he had no doubts that he wouldn't like it.

“Hunter believes the boy is in love with you.”

And there it was. Blaine felt cold  all over . He had to think back to how he had felt at the capitol, when Lord Smythe had revealed his secret  to everyone, to his father . But this time it wasn't him that would be in trouble. This time, Kurt was the target, and he couldn't possibly allow that. He had once admired actors. Now he'd have to act his heart out, anything to keep Kurt out of Lord Smythe's attention.

“Hunter is delusional,” he said, praying silently that he sounded believable.

“Funny, that's what Sebastian said when we discussed this,” Lord Smythe said. “I haven't had much opportunity to make my own judgment in this matter, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. After all, the boy was quite insistent on staying here, with you.”

“We've been friends,” Blaine said. “I know you have a different relationship to your servants down here in the south, but at Dalton, it's not that unusual.”

“Your friend... how sweet,” Lord Smythe said. “Your lover as well?”

“Really?” Blaine asked. “You actually dare to ask me if I have any lovers? It's Sebastian who's sleeping his way through the servants' quarters.”

“Believe me, I am perfectly aware of that,” Lord Smythe said, his face darkening. “But that is not why you're here.”

Blaine shook his head, and he could feel his hands were shaking slightly. He couldn’t lose this, he had to stop this.

“I don't have any lovers, and I'm not planning on taking any,” he said. “Kurt is my friend, nothing more.” The last sentence felt like fire on his tongue, even as he spoke the lie. Of course, Kurt was more – he was the one bright spot in Blaine's life. But he couldn't risk exposing his feelings to Lord Smythe, not that he would ever disrespect Kurt by turning him into an affair...

“I'm not here to interrogate you,” Lord Smythe said, rolling his eyes. “I'm here to give you a piece of advice, that you may or may not perceive as a warning. It's very simple, boy, and I hope you'll show more sense than Sebastian and actually heed it.” He paused for dramatic effect, then he smiled, almost making it look genuine and friendly. It only scared Blaine more.

“What... what advice?” he asked.

Lord Smythe fixed him with his eyes, making him feel like a mouse in front of a cat. “You can fuck whoever you want. Just make sure you're being discreet.“

Blaine stared, unable to believe what he had just heard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Lord Smythe said. “Clearly, that union of yours exists mostly on paper – and that's enough, as long as the alliance is perceived as strong. Now Sebastian... I'm afraid, he's a lost cause. Everybody knows what he's getting up to. Everybody has known that for years. By now, nobody cares about it anymore. If you on the other hand were to be seen with others... that might shake confidence into our alliance. And we can't have that.”

“But I'm not-”

“I don't care. You can do whatever you want with the boy, but not in public. That's what I hired him for, after all.”

“What!?” Blaine's eyes were so wide now that he feared hey might fall out. This was not what he had expected from this conversation.

“You're aware of how fragile the political situation is at the moment,” Lord Smythe said, “and this is your opportunity to have some enjoyment for yourself without endangering it any further. The boy is here for you. There might be gossip about the two of you, but there's always gossip. We can weather that, as long as you don't do anything to fuel it. Do what you want – but you better keep it a secret, whatever it is. As long as you're discreet, I couldn't care less.”

Blaine felt vaguely dizzy as the words sank in. Maybe it did make sense to Lord Smythe, but he didn't know how to handle it.

“Does Sebastian know about this?” he asked.

“Maybe he'll figure it out,” Lord Smythe said, “or maybe Hunter will clue him in. It doesn't matter. But you might want to make sure that he – like the rest of the world – doesn't find out what you get up to with that boy. We wouldn't want him to lose his temper, would we?”

Blaine nodded. He could not imagine  how Sebastian would react if he though...

“You may go now,” Lord Smythe said, dismissing him with a nod.

Blaine  stood up ,  wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.

He was already at the door, when Lord Smythe spoke up again.

“One more thing.”

Blaine turned, fearing what would come next.

“If you slip up, and someone finds out – then I'll have the boy killed. Do you understand?”

Blaine felt his throat close up, but he nodded.

“Good. You're dismissed.”

Blaine wasn't sure how he managed to move his legs and leave the room. Even though it was a lovely day, there were shudders running down his spine, and the shaking in his hand was extremely obvious now. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to think about this. He had never wanted to put Kurt into this situation, to treat him like an affair that had to be hidden way. Getting Lord Smythe's blessing to that just made it even worse. But even ignoring the fact that he didn't want to have an affair...

Lord Smythe had threatened Kurt, and even if the conditions wouldn't occur, it told Blaine something else. It told him that his father by law wouldn't hesitate to go through with his threat. Kurt wasn't safe here, now he was completely at the mercy of Lord Smythe's whim. Blaine had been so focused on what it would mean for him to have somebody here in his corner, that he hadn't considered what kind of danger Kurt was in now.

He wasn't even sure where his feet were carrying him. All he knew was that he found himself at the stables once more, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he had saddled Caverra and started riding, not knowing or caring where he was going as long as it was away from here.

Blaine rarely had that impulse, and he had only followed it once before. He couldn't have said how long he was out before he stopped, let the horse walk more slowly, and allowed himself to think.

“ _I'll have the boy killed...”_

Lord Smythe would not shy away from using Kurt as a threat against him. Maybe he had even meant what he had said, that Blaine could do whatever he wanted as long as he was discreet. It wasn't completely unfeasible. But the threat underneath was too strong to ignore. But it started to make sense, more than the obvious message Lord Smythe had delivered.

Sebastian had acted appallingly, and if Dalton would decide to break the alliance over his behavior, there'd be enough understanding. Maybe the king would even put the blame on Sebastian. Blaine doubted that his father would care, but maybe Lord Smythe wasn't as convinced. But no matter what Earl Anderson or anybody at Dalton would do, the alliance wouldn't break unless Blaine insisted on it.

And if he did, Kurt would be the one to pay for it.

Simple, efficient, ruthless, just as Lord Smythe liked it. He probably thought he had Blaine trapped here completely, and therefore nailed down the Dalton alliance.

But he had been trapped before, even if his father by law hadn't realized it. The threat was intimidating, but Blaine hadn't planned to position himself against Lord Smythe anyway. It still was dangerous for Kurt to be here – but the degree of the danger rested completely on Blaine's shoulders, on his own behavior. And he would listen, would obey better than Sebastian. He would be on his absolute best behavior, wouldn't give Lord Smythe the slightest inclination to move against him. Sometimes knowing about a danger was enough to avoid it.

Of course, he'd have to warn Kurt. If his friend wanted to leave, he would do anything in his power to make it possible. If not... well, then he would be able to deal with it.

They would be able to deal with it.

“We'll make it,” he said, letting his hands stroke through Caverra's mane. “Somehow, we'll make it. And if not... then you'll take him far, far away from here, girl.”

He would keep Kurt safe. It might be too late for himself, either way, but Kurt was not going down with him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, my apologies for the late update, it really wasn't planned like this. But for one, the chapter was a bit harder than I expected, and also - more importantly - I've been extremely busy with university, as I'm preparing for a huge exam, so my time for writing is going to be very limited for the next weeks. But I ope the next chapter won't take as long, as I've also managed to iron out a few things in the plot I've been struggling with.

* * *

Kurt was pacing. He knew there were people watching him, stable boys mostly, and some other servants. But he couldn't help it, he was too worried. Blaine was gone, and so was his horse. The only thing anybody could tell him was that the young lord had come from the castle, saddled Caverra and ridden away. And of course, nobody had even bothered to ask where he was going.

On some level, Kurt felt nervous about Blaine being gone. It was ridiculous, of course. Blaine wouldn't just run away. It was something he had refused again and again, he wouldn't just lose his calm now. But still, whatever Lord Smythe had wanted must have spooked him.

It was this family, this horrible, disgusting family that treated Blaine and everybody else at this place like dirt. The sooner he could get Blaine out of here, the better. This place couldn't possibly breed anything but toxicity, and Kurt was sure that in the long run nobody would be able to escape from it.

He felt bad, keeping secrets from Blaine, but he knew he had to keep this to himself – for now at least. Between the political situation and his family's expectations, Blaine would have a hard time to even consider the possibility of escaping, especially after his request to return to Dalton had been rejected. He might be ready to accept Kurt's presence as support, but he wouldn't want to hear of plans to get him out of here. To Kurt, it was obvious though, that the young lord would only be getting more miserable the longer he stayed here, and with Sebastian's temper, he wondered whether that was the only thing he needed to worry about. So if Blaine wasn't willing to do something about it – well, then he'd have to do it for him.

And really, his plan wasn't exactly a breach of trust. He would only follow the example that Blaine himself had set. All Kurt had done so far was to write a letter. He wasn't sure, how long Emma and the others would need to return to Dalton, but with them, they brought that letter, addressed to the countess instead of the earl, and telling of the situation the Smythes were putting Blaine in every day.

It wasn't certain that the countess would act. But Kurt had gotten the impression that she was worried about her son, that she was ready to put the strife behind them and just wanted contact with her child again. She had already surprised him by standing up to the earl and actually have somebody sent to Dalton. While there was no certainty, at least Kurt had hope that she would do more when she found out how bad things really were. Besides a description of what Blaine had to go through here, Kurt had also asked to have the young lord invited back to Dalton, for a short time at least. Once he had Blaine back at Dalton, they would be able to figure something out.

But for now, he'd settle for having Blaine back here, safely.

Even as he was worrying, he could hear the sound of hooves, and a short while later, Blaine was riding towards the stable on his northern horse. No stable boys came over to welcome him, so Kurt hurried towards him. But by the time he arrived, the young lord had already dismounted, and let his head rest against the horse's fur.

“Are you alright?” Kurt asked, trying not to sound as frantic as he had felt before.

Blaine flinched and looked up, but he relaxed when he saw Kurt. “It's you,” he said softly.

“Where have you been?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head. “I don't know,” he said, “just... away. I had to get out, I had to think...”

“What did he say?” Kurt asked. He felt calmer already now that he could get a good look on Blaine. He looked exhausted, probably more from mental than from physical exhaustion. He also seemed worried, but Kurt was surprised how calm he looked, especially if he really just had run to escape.

“Well, it wasn't good,” Blaine said. He looked around, as if he was nervous somebody was listening, but there was nobody around. “Let me look after Caverra,” he said eventually, “then I'll go to the library. Wait there for me. We have to talk about this.”

“How bad is it?” Kurt asked.

Blaine sighed. “Pretty bad,” he said, “and it can become even worse. But I won't let it get that far. Just... Give me a moment, I'll be there soon.”

It was obvious that Blaine wasn't willing to talk down here. So Kurt would have to be a bit more patient.

“I'll wait for you then,” he said. He smiled, trying to look encouraging.

Blaine looked at him wide-eyed, almost awed, and Kurt felt his mouth go dry at this look. He knew he should be going, but it was so hard to even tear his eyes away, especially when Blaine didn't look away either.

“Right,” the young lord said softly, then he shook his head, as if to snap himself out of it. “I'll be there soon,” he said, turning back to his horse. Kurt followed his example, and turned away to walk back inside the castle.

The library was empty as usual. Not for the first time, Kurt wandered why the family even kept it – maybe just as an object of prestige, if Blaine hadn't chosen it as his refuge, it would probably never be visited. But right now, this was the least of his worries. Before he was even aware of it, he started pacing again, too impatient for Blaine's return. He still couldn't imagine just what it had been that had distressed Blaine like this.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long until the door opened, and Blaine stepped inside. He hesitated at the door for a moment, before he pulled the latch out, locking the door behind him. He then came closer and motioned for Kurt to sit down with him on the broad window sill underneath the colored glass.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, not ready to wait any longer. “What did he want?”

Blaine sighed, leaning back against the glass. “He wanted to warn me,” he said. “Hunter has been talking a lot, about you... about us. that we've been lovers, still are, really.”

Kurt nodded. He had heard this before. “So he warned you not to get too close to me?” he asked.

Blaine shook his head. “Actually, he really seemed to like the idea.”

Kurt stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

Blaine shrugged, although the frown on his face told Kurt that he was less than enthusiastic about that permission. “He wants me to... have fun, or whatever. He just warned me to be discreet about it and not have people find out.”

At first, Kurt couldn't help but stare, but when he started to think about it, it wasn't that surprising. “It does make sense,” Kurt said. “Isn't that what he wants from Sebastian? To just be discreet? He's too shrewd to actually care about faithfulness, he just worries about the alliance.”

Blaine nodded. “It's true. Maybe he thinks it'll make me more... compliant, and that I wouldn't complain to my family if I could have you.”

“That wouldn't upset you like this, though,” Kurt said, his thoughts already racing to see what was so terribly wrong.

Blaine lowered his gaze to the ground as if to brace himself, before he looked up again, right into Kurt's eyes. “He threatened to kill you.”

Kurt felt a shudder run down his spine. “You mean... if we were caught together?”

Blaine nodded. “That's what he said. If we were indiscreet, he'll kill you.”

Kurt let himself sink against the cold stone against his back. He had been aware that coming down south to be with Blaine had been a sacrifice on his part. He hadn't expected it to be this dangerous. Still, he tried to order his thoughts. Panic wouldn't help. “We're not, though,” he said, “we're not sleeping together. We can't get caught at something that we don't do.”

When Blaine looked at him now, there was something awfully similar to pity. “Don't you see? He's threatening you in order to control me. It won't remain at this one threat, he'll use it again. Whatever he wants from me, this will be what he will use to ensure it.”

Kurt nodded. This made more sense, this explained Blaine's reaction better. But from how calm Blaine looked, Kurt already guessed that he had an idea what to do. He also guessed what that idea was, and that he was definitely not going to like it.

“I can't just ignore this...” Blaine started.

“No,” Kurt said softly, but clear and without hesitation or doubt.

Blaine frowned. “No?” he repeated.

“No,” Kurt repeated. “I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no. You want me to leave, to go back to Dalton to be safer. But I won't. I'm not scared of Lord Smythe, and I'm not going to leave you here.”

“I didn't expect you to leave,” Blaine said, “and I didn't dream of telling you to. I thought I let you decide what you want do do.”

“Oh.” This was actually a surprise. With all the martyring Blaine had done, sacrificing his own happiness for an assumed advantage for Dalton, he had been sure that the young lord would wish to stay here and deal with the Smythe family on his own. “Well, then the answer is still no. I'm not going back. I'm staying.”

“I had a feeling you would,” Blaine said softly. “I won't try to convince you to leave. I... I want you to be here. But I'm worried, and you should be, too. Lord Smythe is dangerous. I'm not planning to do anything to oppose him. I don't want to put you into danger, I never want that. But with him, that can change so fast. I need you to understand that. If things get dangerous, I need to know you will be safe.”

“What does that mean?” Kurt asked.

“I want you to leave the second it even appears as if Lord Smythe might move against you,” Blaine said, “and I can't negotiate about that. If it gets too hairy, you need to leave immediately. Can you do that?”

Kurt frowned, taking a moment to think about it. Almost absent-mindedly, he took Blaine's hand in his, stroking it softly with his thumb. Lord Smythe was dangerous, yes. Blaine probably had a better idea on just how dangerous. And still...

“Alright,” he said eventually, “I'll leave the moment you think it's too dangerous. But you have to agree to something, too.”

“To what?” Blaine asked. He sounded surprised. Probably he had expected more protest.

“Don't send me away over nothing,” Kurt said. “You know them better, and I'll trust your judgment. But don't send me away too early.”

“I won't,” Blaine said. “I don't want to send you away. I want you here, with me. I was so grateful you came here. I'm just sorry that you're in danger, just because of me...”

“I'm sorry, too,” Kurt said softly.

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked carefully. “You've uprooted your life just to stand by me. What could you be sorry for?”

“Because now I've just become something else they can hurt you with, and I never wanted that,” Kurt said.

Blaine's eyes widened, and he took Kurt's other hand into his, squeezing both of them. “No, don't think like that,” he said, “that's not it. You're not hurting me, you're helping. You have no idea how much you're helping me.”

“What am I doing? They're still treating you horribly, and now they're threatening you,” Kurt said.

Blaine bit his lip, but Kurt could practically see how the thoughts were racing through his mind. How hard it must have been, to stay here for so long, all alone, and without any contact home, bearing the taunts of nobles and servants, the humiliation... maybe he really couldn't grasp just why Blaine was so grateful...

“Just... believe me,” the young lord said eventually. “You are helping me so much.”

“If you think so...” Kurt said, letting his voice trail off.

Blaine nodded. “I do.”

For a while, they didn't speak, just sat, their hands still intertwined. Somehow, Kurt felt calm, despite the threat against him. It was a bad situation, but his feeling told him that they'd be able to make it. If they stood together, if they trusted in each other...

Blaine's eyes were on their hands, but Kurt couldn't look away from his face. In this new feeling of calm, he saw other things as well. And what he saw clear as daylight right now, was that he wasn't here because of friendship. He hadn't uprooted his life, and was now endangering it, to stand by a friend. He was here for love. It would have broken his heart to leave Blaine behind in this place, so he had decided to stay. It was still painful to be so close, and still unable to be together. But it would have been worse now to stay away. Kurt started to wonder, if this was just him, if Blaine really only needed him here as a friend, as comfort. But then, Blaine looked up and their eyes met, and suddenly Kurt was very sure that they were on the same page. Kurt gulped, even though his mouth felt dry. He saw Blaine's eyes drop, looking down to his lips. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest, but he realized that he wasn't nervous, or scared. It was the most natural thing in the world to put a hand onto Blaine's cheek to pull him closer. For a moment, he could see the young lord's eyes flutter shut, and then, he finally closed the distance, pressing their lips together, shortly for a second.

“It's okay,” he whispered. “We'll figure it out.”

Blaine nodded. “We'll be okay,” he said.

For a moment they stayed like this, their foreheads leaning together, so close they were sharing their breath. This wasn’t smart. They had just decided to be careful, this was almost the opposite of being careful. But it was Blaine, and he couldn't have resisted. And maybe he wasn't alone in this, as suddenly, it was Blaine, who gripped his hand into the fabric of Kurt's shirt, and then kissed him.

The kiss was different from those that had come before. It wasn't desperate, not heated, just a soft touch of lips against his, gentle and sweet, like a greeting, a caress. He felt a gust of air as Blaine gasped against his lips, before he leaned back against the cool stone of the wall in his back. Kurt followed, their lips not parting for longer than a second.

It was easy to get lost in this, in Blaine's kisses, the warm glow of his skin, his hands fisted into the fabric of Kurt's clothes as he pulled him closer, as if he wanted to mold them into one.

He had dreamed of this, back when they both had still been at Dalton and he had forced himself not to pursue his feelings for the young lord. But he couldn't have imagined the reality of it – not the little gasps, or the wet and velvet touch of Blaine's tongue against his. Dreams couldn't have prepared him for how hot he felt, how his head was spinning and he couldn't even form a clear thought. All he could do was press Blaine against the stone, trying to get closer, ever closer...

“Wait...” Blaine gasped against his lips, and wasn't that the worst idea anybody ever had? He was kissing down the skin of Blaine's jaw, before he even remembered what that word meant, and then Blaine was moaning and throwing his head back, giving Kurt better access...

“We should...” Blaine whispered, interrupting himself with another gasp.

“Hmm...” He trailed his kisses down the other boy's throat, stopping at the protruding clavicle, and out of curiosity gave it the tiniest nip. The effect was instantaneous, but not anything he would have hoped for.

Blaine froze underneath his touch, and the hands that had pulled him closer before were now pushing against his shoulders.

“Stop,” Blaine said, his voice hoarse. “We have to stop.”

Kurt didn't resist, he sat back enough to put a bit of distance between them, giving Blaine the space he so obviously wanted. The young lord was breathing heavily, and leaned back against the cool stone in his back. For a moment he looked at Kurt warily, but then he sighed and sagged into himself, a bit of the tenseness fading from his form, although he still looked upset.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked softly. “What... what is it?” He almost asked what he had done wrong, suddenly very aware of how inexperienced he was in comparison to the young lord.

Blaine shook his head. “It's... nothing,” he said. “Nothing's wrong, we just... we can't...”

Frowning, Kurt took Blaine's hand into his. He had expected the young lord to withdraw, but instead, he gripped Kurt's hand as if it was a lifeline. Slowly, Kurt could watch his breath calm down. It helped himself too, to quiet the thoughts racing through his mind. He felt his face glowing, and now it wasn't just from what they had done. He felt a bit ashamed at how quickly he had gotten this carried away. It was stupid, especially after Lord Smythe had just made his threat. Of course, the threat was not to be seen... technically, they could do what they wanted. But Blaine was worried, and they had just agreed to be careful...

Blaine looked up to him, calmed down now. “I'm sorry...” he said.

“No, don't be,” Kurt said. “You're right, we... we shouldn't.”

“We can't risk that somebody finds out,” Blaine said softly. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I want to keep you safe, and then I...”

“Don't,” Kurt said. “I know the risk, and I was just as involved in this as you were.”

Blaine chuckled, and for a second his gaze dropped from Kurt's eyes. “I noticed,” he said, making Kurt blush furiously. “And it wouldn't be right... I don't want to do this to you. You mean too much to me... I can't just turn you into an affair...”

Kurt looked at Blaine, how earnest he looked. His eyes fell to Blaine's throat, to the tiniest traces of red on his clavicle, already fading from sight. He suddenly had to think back to the day of the royal wedding, of the marks Sebastian had left back then.

How had he come to this point? Blaine wasn't his, could never be his, and still... he wanted, couldn't put into words just how much he wanted... An affair was all he could ever be, and his pride had always fought against that. And now he wondered – what for? His pride would make neither of them happy, Blaine didn't love Sebastian and he never would. This was the best they could have, hiding away, hoping never to get caught...

Was it better than nothing?

His father certainly would be disappointed that he'd even consider this option, but things in Lima were different than they were here, down in the south.

He would have to think about this a lot more than he was able to with Blaine so close, so easy to reach out to and touch again. He shook his head, hoping to clear his head, but it wasn't possible. He needed distance and quiet, had to actually think about his options.

“I should go,” he said softly. “We both need to think about this. I just... I don't know. I need to think about it.”

Blaine nodded, although he still looked at Kurt sceptically, as if he was searching for something.

“Are we okay?” he asked, just as quiet.

“Of course we are,” Kurt answered, squeezing Blaine's hand in a gesture of reassurance. “We're okay. We just have to figure out how we'll stay this way.”

“I know, we do,” Blaine agreed, relief coloring his voice.

Kurt found himself raising a hand, stroking Blaine's cheek. “We're okay,” he said again, “I promise. But I should go. We'll talk tomorrow.” He hesitated, but what was the point of it? He bowed forward, and dropped the softest kiss on Blaine's lips, a reassurance and a promise in one.

Blaine sighed against his lips, looking so lovely that Kurt felt his heart constrict. He wasn't sure yet what he was willing to do, what sacrifices he was willing to make, but he knew he couldn't just give up now. He would find a way, somehow.

* * *

Summer had officially begun, its heat rising so fast that Dalton felt almost like a real part of the south. It was refreshing, beautiful really. Lord Cooper Anderson just wished he could find the mood to properly enjoy it. Even now, in this short moment he had taken off his responsibilities to take his oldest son Richard riding, he couldn't keep his mind off the political situation. They were only a group of four. Cooper had only talking a riding instructor for his son, and his own most trusted adviser, Sir William.

Everybody knew about Earl Anderson's older son that he avoided serious discussions and topics of government wherever he could. He knew he'd have to change his tune eventually, once he'd take over his father's role as earl of Dalton, but so far he had gotten along with allowing his wife or father to make the real decisions, while he just did his best to at least act the part that he had any real agency in those questions. For a long time he had even hoped he could shirk off his responsibility as heir to Dalton to his brother, who was a lot more sensible than him anyway – as he was aware, not exactly a tough challenge.

But things had changed, and they were changing even more now. The conflict between north and south was getting more tense with every day. He wasn't completely aware of the newest developments, but even he could tell that there was a war brewing on the horizon. Of course, Dalton was once more allied firmly with the south, but as time went on, Cooper found himself doubting whether this was the right choice. He had a bad feeling about the negotiations, didn't trust Lord Smythe at all, and unlike his father, he actually got an impression of what the common people were thinking.

And then, of course, there was the matter of Blaine.

For over a year, Cooper hadn't thought that much about his brother in his exile far south. It had taken that long for him to accept that it was, in fact, an exile. At first, Cooper had been surprised, although not shocked to hear about his brother's leanings. It wasn't the norm, and most people would look down on it, but Cooper had never cared much. And certainly, it couldn't be so bad as the church said. After all, the law of the blessed union had been crafted more than a hundred years ago, when the crown princess had refused to wed anyone but her lady love. If god had wanted to punish the realm for this, he certainly would have done so a long time ago, and yet the realm still stood – albeit on the brink of a new war between north and south. So when Cooper had heard the rumors of his brother that day after the royal wedding, he had first been worried just how this would position their family, now that the Fabray match had fallen through. When his father had announced that Blaine was to enter a union with Lord Smythe's son, it had actually looked like a good thing. Dalton would get the match it needed, and his brother would get a marriage he might be happy with.

Now,, Cooper was starting to wish he had overcome the feeling of awkwardness and actually talked to Blaine. Maybe then, he would have gotten a better impression just how that union had been negotiated. He had just assumed that Blaine was happy down south, at least he hadn't heard anything different.

Of course, his opinion had changed once his mother had contacted him, asking to intervene with his father so she could send a delegation south for Blaine's birthday. Only then had Cooper found out that Blaine had contacted his family exactly once – and it had been a request to come home again. That was the point when Cooper had started to worry. Blaine had to know their father enough to know that the request wouldn't be granted. Then how desperate had he been to make it anyway?

As he watched his son sitting on the horse, listening intently to the riding instructor, it was very hard for Cooper to understand his father. Just the thought of sending his own child away, and then ignoring such an obvious plea of help... It was a horrible imagination. It wasn't much better to know it was his brother who was all alone and far away. He could be calmer about it, if he at least knew for sure what was going on, how they were treating his brother down in the south...

He bit his lip, trying to banish that thought. It was too easy to talk about “the south”, as if they were something different. But Dalton was part of the south, with Blaine's union now more than they had been in a long time. And still, it felt as if his brother was exiled, not living in his new home.

All his life, Cooper had known that he could trust in his father's judgment to guide Dalton through the political mazes. Now he was starting to doubt.

He really wished he knew more. Not only had he no information from Blaine directly, he had started to notice rumors spreading, and they concerned him even more. The rumors talked about Blaine being taunted, humiliated, of Sebastian Smythe taking dozens of lovers, and being quite open about it. Other rumors were even darker, spoke of Blaine being locked away, or hurt. Cooper didn't want to believe them, but with every passing day they got louder, and he felt less secure. He hadn't dared talking to his father about it, but if this went on any longer... He wasn't sure. Everything was so uncertain. It was easier to just forget about it all for a while and try to just be a father, not care about the larger responsibilities he held.

“He's doing well, isn't he?” Cooper asked, watching how his son sat on the horse, even though the riding instructor still wouldn't let go of the reins.

“He's not doing badly,” William said, “but it's about time to intensify his training.”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “He'll learn when he's ready,” he said, “Blaine was scared of horses until he was about ten, wouldn't even touch them. And suddenly, whatever it was solved itself and he became great with them.”

“Not that there's much riding in the south,” Will said.

“We don't know that,” Cooper said. He tried not to sound too harsh. It wasn't Will's fault that this was probably the one topic he was trying to escape the most.

“Yet,” Will said. “Do you know if that delegation you sent south has returned yet? Maybe they can shed more light on the issue.”

“I hope they will,” Cooper said, “but as far as I know they haven't returned yet.”

Will hesitated, but then he put a hand on Cooper's arm, a gesture of comfort reserved for his former teacher that his father had never cared to show. “I don't believe those rumors,” he said, “they paint a picture that is too dark, and they're a little bit too convenient for the north. Your brother is fine, I'm sure of it.”

“And here I thought there could be no thing you were more wrong about than that hair style of yours.”

Cooper flinched and saw Will do the same as they heard this new voice interrupting their conversation. As he turned around, he wondered how he hadn't noticed the newcomer approach. It was a woman, tall as far as Cooper could tell from how she was still sitting on her horse, a northern breed, its coat so dark brown that it was almost black. Her clothing didn't much fit a lady, it was more in style with the leather cuirass the northern lords wore on travels, and her short blond hair was windswept. She wasn't wearing any insignia, but it wasn't necessary. It could only be one person.

“Lady Sylvester,” Cooper said, bowing curtly, and hoping that she wouldn't notice how she had startled him.

“Little Lord Smooth Hair,” the lady replied, nodding towards him.

Cooper could see Will tense beside him. “You're far to the south, Mylady.”

Sue tilted her head, as if she was thinking about something. “You know what, William? I don't think I care too much for that title. I think Your Grace will fit much better.”

“That's treason!” Will hissed.

“I'd call it a matter of time,” Lady Sue said with a shrug. “With the king's current course of action, it won't be much longer until the north tries to regain its independence, and somebody has to lead them.”

“Still,” Cooper said, “you should be careful who you’re sharing this with.”

“I am. And I can't see any wishy-washy southerners anywhere here. Although hat young man over there has such an appalling posture on the horse that I seriously consider saving that poor animal.”

“He's nine,” Cooper said, glaring at her.

“When I was nine, I was _standing_ on horses,” Lady Sue said.

“Be that as it may, you're talking to southerners right now,” Will said. “Even if we're not 'wishy-washy', or whatever you want to say.”

“I'm sorry, clearly you misunderstood what I was saying. The two of you are basically the definition of wishy-washy... it was your status as southerners I was doubting.”

“Dalton is part of the south and you know it,” Cooper said.

“Politically, maybe,” Lady Sue said, “but we all know that culturally, you haven’t got much in common with them, no matter how many of its sons Dalton decides to sell away.”

Cooper recoiled as if she had hit him. This was just what the rumors were saying, what he tried to ignore but just couldn't forget. It was exactly what he was afraid of. But of course, it was a mistake to show weakness inf front of Lady Sue.

“How dare you?” Will asked beside him. “You have no right to-”

“To tell the truth? Or haven't you heard what people are saying?” Sue said. “Ugly things I've heard. Your new brother in law seems to have quite a way with men. Can't keep his hands off them, no matter what time of the day, no matter who sees it. Not one for being faithful, is he? And those are the nice rumors.”

Cooper shuddered. he didn't want to hear the less nice rumors... and suddenly he understood.

“Rumors that you've been spreading,” he said.

Sue raised her eyebrows. It wasn't an admission of guilt, but then again Cooper wasn't sure she knew what guilt even meant.

“You're not even going to deny it, are you?” Will asked.

“Why would I? Dalton should thank me that I revealed the truth about what's happening to their prince,” she said. “I don't see their earl being honest with them. Not that he cares too much.”

“And you're a completely unbiased source,” Will snorted.

“How would you even know anything?” Cooper asked. “I don't see you being too close with the southerners.”

“And that's because you are a worse fool than your father – but at least you have your looks to fall back on,” Sue said. “I know very well how important connections and good sources of information are. I have several good and trustworthy sources down south, especially among the young ladies – a very smart bunch in this generation, and not very content with limiting their ambitions to a good marriage. They're more than willing to talk to a strapping role model.”

“And they're telling you about my brother?” Cooper asked.

“They're telling me everything that's interesting,” Sue said, “and I share what I believe is necessary. In this case, you should know how they're treating your brother, how they're treating your family and this match. You should pay attention.”

“Why? You're lying,” Will said.

“I'm not afraid of the truth, William,” Sue said, and for a moment, she sounded almost tired. “Now, Lord Cooper, if you don't believe me, that's your prerogative. But you don't have to trust in my word. As I told you, my sources of information are wide-spread, and they tell me that your little delegation has entered Dalton's borders. They should arrive at the castle very soon. Why don't you ask them?”

“Then why meet us here?” Cooper asked.

Sue chuckled. “What makes you think I'm here because of you? Maybe I just wanted some fresh air.”

“No, you didn't.” Cooper said softly.

Again, Sue looked serious. “I didn't,” she agreed. “You'll have to make a decision.”

“Dalton already made a choice,” Cooper said.

Sue shook her head. “I'm not talking about Dalton. I'm talking about you. Your father is blind, and foolish. Now, usually I prefer to make my decisions following logic, but I'm making an exception. I have a bad feeling about this, about your brother. It's not going to end well. Your people won't stand for it, and neither should you. And when you make your decision, then I want you to remember your options – and remember the queen in the north.”

“That is treason!” Will repeated.

“Enough,” Cooper said softly. “Thank you, _Mylady_ , but Dalton will honor its alliances. I hope you have a safe journey home.”

“Oh, I expect to. I can't wait to get out of the smelling range of that abomination your subordinate there thinks is a hairstyle,” Sue said. With a nod, she turned her horse around and rode off.

“Who was that, Papa?”

Cooper turned at the sound of his son's voice. His heart ached as he looked at the boy. So young, so innocent – definitely not ready for a war to come. And when Cooper looked at him, happily and proudly sitting on his horse, he couldn't  help but think of his brother, who'd probably always be a child in his eyes,  who was far away, in who knew what condition...

“I don't know yet,” Cooper said. “But I'm afraid we have to go home now. Papa has to go visit your grandfather. Will and I are riding for the castle as soon as possible.”

For a second, the boy looked disappointed, but then he nodded, putting on a brave face. “I understand,” he said, trying to sound like a grown-up.

“Do you believe her?” Will asked, as they continued their journey.

“It doesn't matter,” Cooper said. “The rumors will spread further, and no matter whether I believe them – the people of Dalton will. And she's right, they won't stand for this. I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do, but if the delegation is back, then maybe they can give us a better account on just what is going on down there. And I definitely need to talk to my father.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late chapter, as I'm still kind of tied up with university... but it's coming together. I think it should end up with about 18 chapters, I'll probably have a better idea of it once the next one is finished.  
> ...and to think this was supposed to be done in seven parts... Ah well, so it goes.

* * *

Cooper's hands were shaking in silent rage, enough that the letter he was holding almost fell out of his hand. For a moment, he wouldn't look up. He was at the grand dining hall, where he had found his mother talking to one of the servants that had gone south, Emma. She had brought a letter with her, written by that servant boy Blaine was friends with. The countess was sitting beside him, clearly distressed over what she had read. Emma, too, had looked upset, but Will was already doing his best to comfort her.

After reading the letter, Cooper didn't want to meet his mother's eye, nor Emma's or Will's until he knew he could control his expression. It was one thing to try and ignore Sue's words as rumors or malicious lies. It was completely different to hear Emma's stories or how the Smythe family treated his brother. It was worse to read this letter with detailed descriptions of just how bad things were. He couldn't ignore this. Blaine was alone, exiled, with no support. And for what? A political alliance that Cooper wasn't even sure would benefit Dalton in the long term. He could see where the northerners were coming from, saying Dalton had sold a son away.

“We need to get Blaine home,” Cooper said eventually. “It's the only option. I won't stand for it anymore. We can't allow them to treat him like this.”

He could see Emma nodding in confirmation, but his mother looked distressed. “You know what your father said about it,” she said.

Cooper shook his head. “We need to convince father to send for Blaine,” he said slowly, “They're hurting him. Father needs to know, he can't possibly ignore this. Not with all the rumors going around.”

His mother still looked hesitant, but she started to nod. “You should talk to him right now, then. He's preparing for travel.”

Cooper frowned. “Where is he going?”

“He's been invited to the grand council meeting about the current situation,” his mother said. “He'll visit the capital.”

“Then he can just bring Blaine home!” Cooper said. “I'll just have to talk to him.”

The countess nodded. “I pray it will work,” she said softly. “Let's go and see him immediately.”

“I believe I should talk to him alone,” Cooper said as they arrived at his father's office. He could hear muffled voices from inside. “Wait here, please.” He nodded to his mother, before entering the room.

He found his father behind a desk, dictating a letter to a scribe. Cooper only got a few words from it – something about troop movements – before both men looked up at the sound of his entrance. For a moment, the earl looked annoyed until his eyes landed on Cooper.

“You're here early,” he said, “I've just sent for you a few hours ago. But this works just as well. I'll leave for the capital soon for an important meeting of the grand council, and I want you to stay here and take care of things while I'm gone. I believe I can rely on you?”

“Of course you can,” Cooper said, the answer almost a reflex. It was weird, how much he had always hoped to win his father's pride. It had become so much of a second nature that he hadn't even noticed, until now that it stopped. Now, he had something else that was important to him. “But before you leave, we need to talk about Blaine.”

His father frowned, obviously not thrilled with this turn of conversation. “And why would we possibly need to do this?”

Trying not to show a reaction in his face, Cooper stepped forward and put the letter down on the desk in front of his father. “They're not treating him right,” he said. “We have to get him back home, at least for some time. It's not bearable for him, and we can't just stand for it.”

His father looked at him strictly, but not particularly moved “And how are they treating him?” he asked, his voice almost sounding exasperated.

“It's in this letter,” Cooper said, nodding towards it. “He's disrespected, he's humiliated, Sebastian Smythe is making a spectacle of how many men he's lying with in full public, it's... it's a disgrace! We have to do something!”

Frown deepening, his father looked down at the letter and started to read quickly. Cooper watched for a change in his facial expression, hoping there would be some positive indication, but the earl didn't let anything show. Eventually he looked up right at Cooper – and the expression on his face was disheartening.

“That's all?” he asked. “They're calling him names and Lord Smythe's deviant son is a deviant in public? This is what you're complaining about?”

“Well, yes-”

“It's _nothing_ ,” his father said, “these are silly complaints of an ungrateful child. It's definitely nothing I would risk Dalton's position over.”

“They're mistreating him.”

“I don't care! What do you think it will look like to the king and all the realm if we get him back here?”

“They'll think we care about our family and won't stand for one of us being mistreated,” Cooper said.

“They'll doubt our loyalty and think we're taking him out of the south's reach while we prepare to betray the king for the north,” the earl said. “And why? Because a brat is whining? Don't be ridiculous, Cooper.”

“He's my brother!”

“He forfeited the rights to his name the moment he chose deviancy over obedience!”

Cooper's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father, on the outside still looking calm but with a fire in his eyes that betrayed how angry he really felt.

“He is part of this family in name only, for the sole purpose of allying Dalton to the Smythe family and therefore the king. I will not endanger that alliance because he started complaining.”

Cooper felt cold as he listened. He had made a mistake. He had been impulsive, had wanted to do something to help Blaine, but in doing so, he had come to this with the completely wrong strategy. Now he might have ruined it completely. If he wanted Blaine to be helped, then he needed to think quickly.

“The alliance is in danger already,” he said, the first thing that sprang to his mind.

“And why would that be?” his father asked, although it was quite easy to see that he wasn't particularly interested in the answer.

“People see how Blaine is treated,” Cooper said, “and they're talking about it, not only down south, but here at Dalton, and definitely in the north. They say even worse things than this, and people in Dalton are listening.”

“So where are you going with this?” his father asked, a bit more ready to listen.

“The people of Dalton aren't happy with what they hear about Blaine,” Cooper said, trying to think on his feet, “they won't stand for it, they don't want a member of their ruling family to be treated like some... concubine. If Blaine is humiliated and disrespected, that's disrespect to our family, and to Dalton. Lady Sylvester has been spreading rumors. I think she wants to make Dalton switch alliances. I know you wouldn't... but if this goes on, the people of Dalton might.”

“You think my people would rise against me? For what? The word of that... _woman_ , and the well-being of a deviant?”

“Don't underestimate the people, and don't underestimate your knights. They're not happy either,” Cooper said. “I've been talking to them, and they're getting uneasy, getting aggressive. This can't go on, you have to do something. And do you think the southern lords respect you if you allow your family to be treated like this? By allowing this treatment, you're turning our family into a joke. Can you stand for this, father? Because I can't, I won't, and neither will Dalton. You have to act.”

He held his breath, hoping that it was enough to convince his father to do anything. The earl was looking at him in contemplation, and for a few moments that felt like an eternity, he was completely still.

Then, he nodded. “I see your point. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention... I will discuss things with Lord Smythe when we meet at the capital, and I will see what I can do to improve the situation.”

“Will you go see Blaine?” Cooper asked.

The frown returned to his father's face. “If necessary,” he said eventually. “Very well. Your point has been made, you're free to leave. I still have a lot to do before I leave.”

“Yes, father, thank you,” Cooper said. It was something, yes, but not what he had hoped for. Still, this was probably as much as his father would agree to, and Cooper knew that sometimes it was smart to pick one's battles.

His father nodded to him and turned to his scribe again. Cooper was almost out of the door when he thought of something else and turned back around.

“Father?”

The earl sighed. “Yes?”

Cooper hesitated, wondering whether it was the right thing to even ask. But he had to hear it from his father. “Do you think we made the right choice? When we struck an alliance with the south?”

His father's look regained all the strictness that had dissolved while Cooper made his arguments. “We are part of the south,” he said, “and we'll stay a part of the south. Dalton is loyal to the king and will remain so. I will not have this questioned by my own family, too!”

For a moment, Cooper wanted to ask who else was questioning this, but he probably shouldn't anger his father more. “I know we're part of the south,” he said instead, “but do you really think we're on the _right_ side here? Do you think the king is right in what he's doing? The way he's treating the northerners? I know he's the king, but couldn't it be that... that he's wrong, and that we're making a mistake by following him?”

Something twitched in his father’s face and Cooper almost wished he hadn't asked the question, that he could take it back and just leave. But that was a child's wish, trying to hide from responsibility. He was a grown man, he should have the right to meet his father as an equal. He would be the earl of Dalton one day. He needed to stand up for himself, and he had wasted enough time not doing it already.

Eventually, his father spoke. “This alliance is essential for Dalton, and I will not have you question it. I believe it's time for you to make sure your rooms are acceptable for your stay while I'm gone You're dismissed.”

Cooper stared at him in disbelief. “Are you sending me to my room?” he asked. “I'm almost thirty, I'm not a child!”

“Then don't act like one,” his father said. “Leave, I'm busy.”

He knew he should protest, stand up to his father. But he also knew that this was not the time.

“As you wish,” he said, turning around to leave.

His mother as well as Will and Emma were waiting outside, watching him hopefully.

“He will deal with it,” Cooper said, “although I'm not sure if he'll bring Blaine home,” he said “It's something, though. Let's hope for the best.”

His mother sighed in relief, apparently believing that this would be enough to make things right. Cooper wished he could share her optimism.

“Emma, will you see my mother to the dining hall and make sure she gets some tea? I believe this was a difficult day for her,” he said, trying to look untroubled.

“Of course, Mylord,” Emma said.

Cooper waited until the women were far out of earshot until he turned to Will. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said. “He'll talk to Smythe, but I don't think he's even going to see Blaine.”

“I'm not surprised,” Will said. “But what are you going to do? You rule a territory as well, you could invite him yourself.”

“Father says it would be suspicious of Dalton being treacherous,” Cooper said. “And father is very determined to keep the alliance above everything else. I think we have to be very careful...”

“Careful?” Will asked. “About what?”

Cooper sighed. “The relations between north and south... what is going to happen to my brother... But mostly, I have to ask you something.”

“And what is that?” Will asked.

Cooper looked around to make sure nobody was around to hear him. “I noticed there was some familiarity between you and Lady Sylvester,” he said.

“I was a squire at her father's castle,” Will said, “but I hold no loyalty to her family. You may have noticed we don't get along particularly well.”

“You might have to get over that,” Cooper said. “And obviously, you can't tell anybody about what I'm going to ask you.”

“And what's that?” Will asked.

“I have to know everything you can tell me about Lady Sylvester.”

* * *

Hands were wandering over his skin, rougher as he was used to, but somehow that made it just better. The lips following the hands were softer, though. Blaine's eyes rolled back, and he let his hands sink into soft chestnut hair.

The kisses stopped for a moment, just long enough to ask, “You okay?”

Blaine made an effort to look, to see Kurt's eyes on him, the reflection of candlelight shining from them. Without thinking, he raised his hand, touching the other boy's cheek. A surge of warmth and emotion rushed through him, and he opened his mouth, wanted to speak it, to tell him... but there were no words, so he just closed his eyes again, accepted the kisses that came, the lips that claimed his mouth as if they were the only ones to ever touch him.

“Beautiful...” A whisper against his skin... “You're so beautiful...”

“I love you,” Blaine whispered. The words fell freely from his lips, as natural as the thought felt.

“I love you too,” Kurt whispered back and kissed him again. His hands roamed over Blaine's skin, stroked and teased and made his skin burn. Blaine closed his eye, just allowed himself to feel, to enjoy.

“You're so beautiful,” Kurt whispered again. “You're _everything_.”

Blaine whimpered, arching his back to give the wandering hands better access.

“And you're mine.”

Blaine froze at the words. They were wrong, Kurt wouldn't say such a thing... “What?” he asked, his eyes wide open now.

But it wasn't Kurt who was on top of him, whose hands had now stopped roaming and were holding him down against the mattress, their grip iron.

It was Sebastian.

“You're mine,” he said, ignoring the way Blaine pushed against him. “And you always will be. Do you understand? _Mine_.”

Blaine tried to sit up, to shove him off. He didn't understand what was happening. But Sebastian was pushing him down, a force he didn't have the strength to fight against. A hand snaked into his hair, pulled roughly, and he gasped in pain. The next second, Sebastian was kissing him, plunging in his tongue and with it came the rank taste of alcohol. Blaine tried to turn away, and for a second he saw Kurt again, in the corner of the room, reaching out for him, calling. Blaine tried to take his hand, but they wouldn't touch and...

With a gasp, Blaine opened his eyes. He was lying in bed, but there was no body above him, nothing pressing him down. He was breathing harshly, trying to calm down and to dispel the images of what he now realized was a dream. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down.

A hand touched his arm. With another gasp, Blaine flinched away from the touch. He sat up so quickly that he almost fell out of bed. Looking up, he could see Sebastian beside him, a hand reached out for him and a concerned look on his face. It did nothing to calm down his panic.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asked.

“Nightmare,” Blaine said, trying to calm down his breath enough to speak properly.

“About what?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine looked down onto his own hands. “War,” he lied.

Sebastian looked at him suspiciously. “You get those a lot.”

Blaine shrugged. He wished Sebastian hadn't woken up. Having him here, awake didn’t exactly help with the fear he still felt from the nightmare. Still shaking, Blaine ran a hand through his hair.

Sebastian's hand landed on his arm, and he flinched violently. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sebastian’s face fall.

“You don't have to worry,” Sebastian said. His voice was calm, although he looked hurt. “I know you think a lot about Dalton, but you don't have to be afraid of a war.”

Blaine frowned, looking up again. “You actually think they can prevent it?” he asked. He thought back to his conversation with Lord Smythe. Could it be that his advice had helped? If him being here, if Dalton being on the side of the kingdom and himself explaining the northerners well enough... if all that could prevent a war between north and south, then just maybe it would all be worth it...

But Sebastian just snorted. “Of course there'll be war,” he said. “Haven't you been paying any attention? There will be war, and that's okay. Those northerners need a harsh lesson, and the king will beat them easily. But you don't need to be afraid of it. You're safe with me. When the war comes, it will hit Dalton worse than the rest of the south, that's just geography. But I can promise that the battles won't get anywhere near us.”

Blaine stared at him, and not for the first time he wondered how he had ever thought he could lead a good life with this man. “What about my family?” he asked. “What about my home?”

“This is your home, Blaine,” Sebastian said. “You're mine now.”

“Dalton is my home,” Blaine replied, trying to hide the cold shudder those words sent down his spine.

But maybe Sebastian saw after all, because he glared now at Blaine. “You and your precious Dalton... Want to know the truth about it?”

Blaine shook his head. He could already guess that he wouldn't like it. But Sebastian didn't care and just went on.

“Nobody there cares about you. Your family dropped you like a hot potato the second there was the slightest smudge on your reputation. They washed their hands off you, and if I hadn't wanted you, you'd be living in the streets, Blaine. I'm all the family you have. I would never do that to you. But you just sulk around and whine about your precious Dalton. Face it, that place you miss so much doesn't even exist. They don't want you. I do. So how about you show a little bit of appreciation for once?”

While he spoke, he had taken hold of Blaine's shoulders, gripping themharder the longer he spoke.

Blaine swallowed down his fear, tried to let only his anger show, as he pulled Sebastian's hands off. “Don't touch me,” he said, glaring at his husband.

They stayed like this for a moment that felt like forever. Blaine didn't dare to breath, not sure if Sebastian was going to snap, or...

“Fine,” Sebastian spat, turning away from him and lying back down again. “Suit yourself. But eventually, you'll have to face the facts.”

For a few minutes, Blaine stayed as he was, still tenses. But eventually, he lay back down, his back to Sebastian, and tried to calm down. He wasn't sure who of them had won this spar, one of many battles fought in this room, or if maybe both of them had been defeated. But he knew that it was over and wouldn't be rekindled tonight. He tried to calm down, to fall asleep, but he was too riled up, too shaky, and too aware of even the tiniest movement from Sebastian.

What was the point of all this? He wouldn't blindly trust Sebastian's grasp on politics, but what if he was right? If a war was coming anyway, and if Dalton would suffer most from it... then what was he doing here?

But Sebastian had been wrong. There was somebody else who cared about him. Kurt was here for him, was worried about him. Whatever was true about his family, Blaine knew that he wasn't alone, that he was cared for – actually cared for, not that caricature of it that Sebastian showed him.

He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket tightly around him and imagined Kurt was here, holding him, stroking through his hair, telling him stories of the north as he had done before. Before his closed lids he pictured the meadows around Dalton castle on a warm summer day, the wind, the smell of the grass... and always Kurt's voice in his ear, soft and calm.

It wasn't enough to allow him to sleep, but at least his breath calmed, his fear dissolved. If there were tears pooling in his eyes, then nobody had to know.

* * *

The night hadn't helped Kurt at all to clear the disorder in his mind. He longed back to times when things had made more sense to him. It had been simple before, back when he had been sure that he would never have a chance to be with Blaine. Back then, it had been easier to shield his feelings, pretend they didn't exist. Back then, he had known that he would not bear to be a secret.

It had been easy back then.

Now... now it was complicated. Maybe reality always was more complicated than plans were. Was it fair to forbid himself something he wanted so much, especially when he knew that Blaine wanted it, too? They couldn't be together – not because they didn't care for each other, but because of the circumstances around them. Was it fair that they should just live with that?

And where were those thoughts coming from? Kurt loved romantic stories and fairy tales, and the idea of love conquering everything, yes. But despite that, he had always thought he was a realistic person, someone who wouldn't let idealistic dreams ruin his outlook on real life. When had he started to think that he had any right to love, just because he wanted it? Blaine's lot had always been marriage for political reasons, and his own apparently was to love somebody he could never have.

Or could he? If Kurt could just ignore the circumstances, then they could build something for themselves. They could be together, even in secret.

It was impossible to decide. As he saw it, these were their options: He could leave, go back to Dalton, or maybe even Lima, and forget about Blaine. But that was in theory only, he knew he could never bring himself to leave. Staying here, then... The smart thing to do would be to ignore his feelings, go on just as a friend. It would be smart, but he wasn't sure if he could do it – if they both could... Then there was the dangerous option, to give into their feelings, to be together even if it was in secret, an affair that nobody could ever find out about. But would that bring them happiness? Or would it just make things more difficult, maybe even drive them apart?

What he really wanted was to leave this place, get away from the toxicity, and most importantly, to take Blaine with him.

For the first time in years, Kurt wanted to go home – not even Dalton, he wanted to be with his family, and take Blaine with him. But that would not happen. There was no way Blaine would leave and endanger the alliance.

Waiting, then. This was something he could do. He would wait until they got word from Dalton, and with some luck, there would be an invitation. Back there, away from the Smythe family, they could figure out what to do. Until then, he would have to wait with his decision. He just hoped Blaine would understand.

Maybe it would be easier if he told Blaine about the letter, but something held him back. He still didn't know for sure what the answer would be, and just in case the countess wouldn't pull through, he didn't want Blaine to be disappointed. As for what he would do if he couldn't bring Blaine back to Dalton... Well, he would figure it out in time.

“Are you actually being paid for just standing around and staring?”

He managed not to flinch at the aggressive voice. As he looked to his side, he found Kitty standing there, first glaring at him and then looking outside the window.

“I don't see what's so exciting out there,” she said.

“I was in thought,” Kurt said. “Do you need anything?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “The water is boiling. I think you were making tea?”

“Right, thanks.” Kurt nodded to her, but she just turned away and walked to the other girls that were preparing lunch already.

Kurt shrugged off how snappish she was. He didn't want to imagine what things would be like if he had to live in this place with this horrible family for a long time. It was easier to focus on preparing the tea, and taking the pitcher up to the library. He hadn't been at breakfast, so he hadn't gotten around to see Blaine yet today. He really hoped that the young lord had gotten a good night's sleep, and not been kept awake worried about last night.

When Kurt stepped into the library, it didn't take long for him to find Blaine, once again seated under the colored glass window. He was leaning against the stone, but didn't react even to the door closing.

Curiously, Kurt came closer. Blaine's face was turned towards him, so he could see that his eyes were closed. There were shadows under his eyes, his skin was pale, and he looked completely exhausted. Kurt put the pitcher onto the table, before he sat down beside the young lord at the window sill and gently held his upper arm.

Blaine flinched, his head jerking back so fast that he hit it on the stone, and when his eyes snapped open, for a moment they looked full of fear. But when they focused and he recognized Kurt, he relaxed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don't be, I didn't mean to startle you,” Kurt said. “Are you alright? You look tired.”

“I couldn't sleep, “Blaine said. “Just... lot to think about.”

“I know what that feels like,” Kurt said. “But are you alright?”

Blaine looked at him, and it was clear that he was struggling with what he should say. Eventually he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just didn't sleep well... nightmares.” He shook his head. “I'm just tired.”

Kurt bit his lips, unsure how to proceed. He had made a decision on what to tell Blaine, but right now he didn't want to deal another blow when the young lord looked as if a breeze could knock him over.

“You're not hurt, though, right?” he asked carefully.

“I'm not,” Blaine said, “just tired, and a lot on my mind.”

“What exactly?” Kurt asked, his voice soft.

Blaine looked down, and Kurt could see the faintest blush. “A lot about you... about yesterday,” he said. “But there are other things, too. It's not an ideal situation, is it?”

“You're still married,” Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. “Even though it hardly deserves that name,” he said. “I don't understand him, sometimes I'm even scared of him... But I can't just end it. It's there. And I care about you so much, I wish I could be with you. But I _am_ married, and that's not something I can do to you.”

“Will you stop with this?” Kurt asked. “You make it sound like if we got together, it would be you hurting me, or debasing me... but I know you. If we went there... I don't think I would hurt from hiding it. I know it's the circumstances and not your feelings for me. So... it wouldn't be like that. It wouldn't be you hurting me.”

Blaine looked at him wide-eyed. “So you're saying you want to... what? Be together? Even as an affair?”

Kurt halted. “I... I don't know,” he said, “I'm sorry, I know it sounded like... I just...”

“No, it's fine,” Blaine said, quickly taking his hand. “I promise, it's okay, don't apologize. I know it's complicated. It's difficult for me, too.”

“I don't think we'd even have an affair, if we chose that,” Kurt said. “I always thought that an affair is just about the forbidden fruit, and all that – not about actual feelings. I don't see us ever being that. You mean too much to me.”

“You mean too much to me as well,” Blaine said. “That's why I can't imagine an affair...”

“I told you, it could only ever be more than an affair. But... I don’t think I'm ready to try it. I need more time to think about everything, and I don't want to rush anything, not with you.”

He watched Blaine carefully, hoping that the reaction wouldn't be too bad.

To his relief, Blaine nodded thoughtfully. “It's too complicated,” he said, “and I... I'm not sure I'm ready, either. I'm not sure I could separate things enough, or if I could pretend enough around everybody else. And we'd have to be so terribly careful..”

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So you don't want it? At all?”

When Blaine looked up, his eyes were full of longing. “I do want it,” he said, “but I don't know if I could manage. I'm not sure I could deal with it, if I was with you, and still had to pretend with Sebastian. It would be dangerous, too. It's... I just don't know...”

He looked even more tired now, and Kurt almost felt sorry for putting him through this. But this was their situation, and both of them had to deal with it.

“We don't have to do anything,” Kurt said, “and we don't have to make a decision now and stick to it for the rest of our lives. I think for now it's best that we don't escalate things. And maybe things will look different once you've gotten used to me being here. Maybe then we can work something out... if you want to.

Blaine nodded, a look of gratitude in his face. “Thank you. I know this is difficult, and I know I make everything complicated. You're way too patient with me.”

“You have all the time you need,” Kurt said. “And we'll talk it through, when you know what you want, and what you can deal with.”

“What I know...” Blaine said musingly, but then his face turned serious and he looked right into Kurt's eyes. “I love you. That's about the only thing I know.”

Kurt couldn't help a smile as he looked down at their hands. “And I love you,” he said softly.

Blaine chuckled. “Look at us,” he said, “more than a year, and where have we gotten? We're right where we were back then. Do you remember? At the chapel?”

“Of course I remember,” Kurt said. It had been goodbye back then, and something he was sure he would never be able to forget, no matter how far away it actually was.

“We're not the same, though,” he said. “We're together now. We'll figure something out.”

When Blaine looked up to him, he looked still tired, but there was hope growing in his eyes. “We will, won't we?” he asked.

Kurt thought to the letter again and wondered if it had arrived at Dalton yet, if the countess was going to act. He was uncertain of what would come next. He would have to put his faith into Blaine's family now and hope for the best.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to see the end of this story, there are probably going to be about three to four chapters after this. This one was a bit tough, which makes sense as it's not a very happy chapter. At all.
> 
> So, warnings for this chapter: description of domestic violence, also, swearing.

* * *

The day Blaine had first come to the Smythe family castle, he had been impressed with the welcoming committee. Of course, it hadn't taken that long for him to become disenchanted. When he looked at the small crowd of nobles, knights and servants that had gathered today to see Lord Smythe off for his journey to the capital, Blaine was less impressed and more intimidated by it.

There was just an ominous feeling to this day,  even though it should be a good thing. Lord Smythe and Hunter were leaving for a meeting of the Grand Council, hopefully to find a way to settle the disagreements with the north once and for all, preferably without any violence or another war. And still... Blaine had a bad feeling.

Beside him, Sebastian was b asically glow ing, his expression triumphant as he listened to his father's instructions.

“And remember, boy,” Lord Smythe said, “I want this place running perfectly. This is a test for you as well. If this is working, maybe I can give you more responsibilities in future.” He threw a disdainful look to Blaine before he continued. “Maybe that is an incentive that actually works for you.”

Blaine bit the inside of his lip, trying not to react. As he looked around, he could see Kurt standing with the servants. It was enough to calm him down at least a bit.

“I will not disappoint you, father,” Sebastian said, bowing his head in respect. Blaine mimicked the gesture, trying to look like he didn't want to be anywhere but here. Sebastian's arm was around his waist, a gesture of possession, and it only added to the strange atmosphere.

“Just keep things running,” Lord Smythe said. “And I don't want to hear any further complaints about your behavior, did I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear,” Sebastian said.

Lord Smythe then turned to Blaine completely. “And you, boy, remember the talk we had.”

Blaine gulped, but tried not to let it show. “Yes, sir,” he said.

With a last nod to them, Lord Smythe turned around. Hunter  rode after him,  followed by a group of knights that accompanied them. Sebastian’s hold around Blaine's waist got a bit stronger as they rode off.

“So this is it...” Sebastian said. “You'll see, I'll do an amazing job taking care of this place. Even father won't be able to deny that I'm able to do so.”

“That's nice,” Blaine said, “but you know exactly that you're not going to be in charge of this place when your father retires. It's going to Hunter, he's older.”

“Hunter is an idiot,” Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing. “Hunter is good at following orders, he can't think for crap.”

“He has something called self-restraint,” Blaine said.

“What the hell is your problem?” Sebastian asked. “Just... can't you just relax and be happy that I'm in charge of this place right now? Imagine this is how it's going to be one day. You and me, in charge of our own castle...”

Blaine sighed. “And by that you mean you'll be in charge and I... what was it? Relax and be happy about it?”

Sebastian glared at him. “Have you ever considered that  the reason for  your unhappiness is  that you cling to it? ”

There were lots o f things that Blaine could have said now... how he had tried everything long after Sebastian had started sleeping with wh o ever seemed the least bit interested, or how the last possible moment for them to work things out had long passed. But there was no point to it, really.

“Let's just see what's going to happen,” Blaine said. “I hope you'll be fulfilled in this new task.”

There was definitely a bit of suspicion and disappointment in Sebastian's eyes, but he nodded. “Very well, let's see,” he said. “How about you come with me to a meeting with the remaining counselors?”

A frown formed on Blaine's face. “Why  would you want me there?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You're my  spouse . I want us to share responsibilities.”

“Since when?” Blaine asked.

“Well, whatever we've been doing before isn't working, is it? And at least I'm trying to do something about this.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts. Just shut up and come to the meeting with me,” Sebastian said. The grip around Blaine's waist tightened even more. Blaine wasn't sure if it was supposed to be reassuring or comforting or whatever... He looked around, and managed to catch Kurt's eyes for a moment. With a sigh, Blaine turned away, following Sebastian back inside.

* * *

“I must say, my friend, it’s good to see you again. It's been much too long.”

“Spare me the pleasantries, we're both here out of more important reasons.”

Lord Smythe sighed internally.  O f course, he wasn't that happy to see Earl Anderson again –  and not only because t he man was missing a sense for the finer things in life, or the more diplomatic ways of holding conversations. There was some truth to what they said about Dalton. They were half northerners up there.

The  G rand  C ouncil meeting was even bigger than Lord Smythe had expected. By his estimate about half the invited lords had arrived at the capital already, and the rest was expected within the next two days, with the meetings beginning once everybody had arrived. It was a bit surprising that Earl Anderson had arrived here as early as he had, but it was fine – apparently they had things to discuss.

“The political situation is what it is,” Lord Smythe said with a shrug. “We'll figure something out. And we have a pretty good line on what to do. The plans are going to be well thought out. There is no reason to be worried.”

“I wasn't referring to the political situation,” Earl Anderson said. “What I want to discuss is a more... personal situation.”

“Our sons?” Lord Smythe said.

Earl Anderson looked as if he smelt something  appalling . “Yes, them. There are some rumors going on around Dalton. I had to listen to my son lecturing me.”

“Your older son?” Lord Smythe asked for confirmation.

“Of course him,” Earl Anderson said. “Cooper is a good son, but he's sentimental where his brother is concerned. And apparently, there are a lot of rumors going around. Do you have an idea of what they say?”

Lord Smythe sighed. He had hoped this wouldn't be a problem. But really, he had known  Sebastian . He had no right to be surprised about this.

“I imagine you have heard some stories about Sebastian being a less than ideal spouse to your son,” he said, “there has been some infidelity, which I believe has been exaggerated with every retelling...”

“That puts it mildly,” Earl Anderson said. “There are tons of stories about your son. They go from infidelity to what sounds like public orgies, and public mistreatment.”

“I can assure you that these are wild exaggerations,” Lord Smythe said. Already, this conversation wasn't going the way he thought it would. “There has been no mistreatment, although I admit that Sebastian takes fidelity a bit too lightly. But you do not have to worry about your son's health. If you wish, you can see him once the Grand Council meeting is over. Come to my home, and then you can talk to the boy yourself and make sure that everything is fine with him.” This was a proposal he was comfortable with. Maybe he'd have to have a short conversation with the boy before he met his father – just to make him understand how important it was that the earl was satisfied with the conversation, and just how unhealthy a different outcome might turn out to be for a certain servant boy.

“I don't have the time for useless trips. When these meetings are over, I will have much to organize back at Dalton, I can't go listen to the boy's whining.”

The earl's impatience took him by surprise, but Lord Smythe was nothing if not fast to adapt his strategies. “It wouldn't take much time,” he said, “although I must say I'm honored you show this much trust in m word.”

“You're mistaken. I'm not that naïve,” the earl said. “I'm not surprised by the rumors about your son's conduct, and I don't particularly care about it. What I care abut is what this looks like.”

Lord Smythe frowned. “I'm not sure I follow. It looks like my son is a horrible husband, but nobody who ever even heard about him could be terribly surprised about this.”

“It's disrespectful conduct, and the disrespect goes to my family,” the earl said. “The north hopes to use this to sow discord between us, by playing up the troubles in that... _union_ , as a sign that our alliance stands on shaky feet.”

“But the both of us know that's not the case,” Lord Smythe said carefully. “So does the king, and so do our allies. Let the north think what they want. Maybe that’s even a good thing. If they expect there to be strife between us, they might count on Dalton to support them when they make their move against the crown. Let them depend on that, and they won't be prepared for our continued strong alliance.”

“In general, I agree,” Earl Anderson said, “but unfortunately, my son Cooper has brought it to my attention that the northerners aren't the only problem.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Lord Smythe said. He didn't let his thoughts show, but he was perking up at the mention of the other Anderson boy. His information didn't suggest that he was the most politically adept. But could he really have found something that both himself and the earl of Dalton had overlooked? Or was he the problem?

“Cooper seems to be of the opinion that if the rumors about the boy's mistreatment spread even more, the people of Dalton will come to the conclusion that our family and therefore Dalton are disrespected. Combine this with the continuing propaganda coming from Lady Sylvester and the north, and I can't guarantee for Dalton's stability.”

“I understand his point,” Lord Smythe said. “And I can't pretend that Sebastian hasn't played a big part in this instability. But what do you want me to do about this? I'm already trying to rein in Sebastian, and I'm making sure that your son receives the respect his position deserves. I'm not sure how I can help you controlling your earldom.”

“The rumors need to stop,” the earl said. “You rein in your son, and I will do the same with mine.”

“I'm not sure Blaine needs much reining in, to be honest with you. I can take care of it. And also, I'm not sure how you imagine to do that if you don't even have the time to come see the boy.”

“Not _him,_ the one I'm talking about is Cooper,” he earl said. “For some reason he's committed to the idea that his brother is being mistreated and that he has the obligation to become the boy's champion. He'll calm down when he realizes that the boy has no other problem than complaining too much.”

“And how are you going to accomplish that?” Lord Smythe asked.

“I'll inform Cooper that you and I discussed things at length, and that I've been in contact with his brother to make sure there won't be further problems,” the earl said. “I will also send a letter to the boy, and remind him of his place and duty in this family. Maybe if he hadn't whined to the servants, this wouldn't be such a problem in the first place.”

“I'm glad that at least we understand each other,” Lord Smythe said, nodding to him.

“As am I,” the earl said. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a letter to write.”

Lord Smythe nodded, and stayed as he watched his ally enter the corridor. With a sigh, he shook his head. And they said the south had no sense for family... But this was good. With Sebastian's behavior, he  had  kn own he'd be in trouble if the earl actually cared enough to make sure his son was treated right.

For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the contemplation what the consequences of this would be for Dalton. It was definitely the smart move to ally with the south over the north. If he'd been in the earl' s position, he'd done the same thing. Of course, he would have used his son to get insider information on the south. But that was him. He had soon realized that while his deviant son wasn't something he could be proud of, it didn't stop Sebastian from being a useful asset. The reason Sebastian was difficult was mostly his temper. A boy with Blaine Anderson's temper, though? Lord Smythe knew he would have found better use.  But  Earl Anderson was so stubborn that he preferred to pretend that abnormality of a son didn't exist.

No, Lord Smythe didn't understand his ally, there was a chance he never would. It didn't matter. The earl had been what he needed to secure the king's favor, and the boy had unwittingly given him exactly the tool that would help the south win this conflict. Let the north think that they rose up because of the king's injustice, out of their own choice – when all along they'd been played by the king, or rather Lord Smythe himself, and with the south more than ready to deal with their attack...

A few more months of patience and his plans would come to fruition. He couldn't wait.

* * *

“The last thing is the Ryerson case, Mylord.”

“Refresh my memory, what's his case again?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine sighed internally and leaned back against the chair he was sitting in. He had hoped for the meeting to be over fast, but as the last week should have taught him, fast wasn't Sebastian's style when it came to taking care of his father's business. It had been obvious from the first day that the knights and councilman who were supposed to advise him were less than impressed with having to obey Sebastian's orders. They argued about every point, and worst of all, they were condescending. They probably saw their assignment here more  as  babysitting than actual counseling, and they weren't shy to let Sebastian know. Sebastian of course reacted to  t his as he did to all insults, by becoming rash, fighting for every modicum of respect he thought he deserved. For Blaine, it usually meant meetings that were way longer and way more uncomfortable than he had hoped. Bu t Sebastian insisted on him sitting by, witnessing it all, for whatever reason – maybe so he could have somebody present he could feel superior over...

“He was caught trying to sell stolen goods within our borders,” the knight said, “and he's a known smuggler. He's in the cells right now, I humbly suggest that we send him to Lord Evans. Smuggling over the sea... that's his jurisdiction.”

“He was caught within our borders, so he is our responsibility. My father isn't here, and there's no reason to put everything on halt while he's gone,” Sebastian gritted through his teeth. “I'm in charge, and I'm more than capable of dealing with this man.”

“There's not much reason to deal with him,” the knight said. “If you don't want to send him Evans, then keep him in jail until his trial – then let him stay there once he's sentenced to jail time. I don't see the problem.”

“That's because you're not paying attention! That man's not a criminal! He's keeping goods and money out of the northerners hands, he's a hero! What we are going to do is to take him out of jail, congratulate him for his service and re-compensate him for being incarcerated!”

Blaine's eyes widened and he stared at Sebastian. “What?”

He could see in the advisers' faces that he had voice what basically everybody was thinking, but apparently hadn't dared to say. He almost regretted what he said when he saw the way Sebastian looked at him.

“Excuse me?” Sebastian asked, his voice cold as ice. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion on this.”

“They're right, though. You can't make a decision like this,” Blaine said. “You can't pardon a smuggler. What he's avoiding is taxes, that means he's stealing from the crown.”

“Have you seriously not noticed what's going on politically? The north is refusing taxes! The crown wouldn't see the money anyway,” Sebastian shouted. “But why am I asking you anyway? You are a northerner, of course you want to show them mercy.”

The whole room had gotten silent by now, the advisers looking between them. Blaine felt his temper rise, and didn't he wish he could throw his cup of water right into Sebastian's face... but no, he'd have to keep his  calm .

“I was trying to offer you an opinion that everybody in this room thinks but nobody dares to tell you. That's part of leadership, I believe – listening to different perspectives?”

“Yeah, well, if I wanted your opinion, I would _ask_ you,” Sebastian said.

“As you wish,” Blaine said, just so managing not to roll his eyes. “If you don't want my opinion, then _why am I here_?”

Sebastian stared at him for way too long, as if he didn't now the answer to this himself.

“In that case, I believe I have better things to do,” Blaine said. With a nod to Sebastian, he rose from his seat and walked out of the room.

It was frustrating. He knew that Sebastian was under a lot of pressure, trying to prove himself worthy of his father's trust, trying to impress the lords and knights that he hoped he would one day rule. It was ridiculous, of course. None of those nobles was going to be controlled by someone they despised, and with Sebastian's reputation there was no way that Lord Smythe would name him his heir. All of Sebastian's attempts were doomed to failure, and the odds were good that Sebastian knew. That was probably one of the reasons he was so angry at the moment. Combined with his already less than stable state of mind..

Blaine could hear the footsteps following him. He couldn't be bothered to slow down, but the steps sped up, until he could feel a hand close around his shoulder. The next second, he was pushed against the wall, and Sebastian glared down at him.

“You do not talk to me like that in front of them!”

“Don't act like I wasn't right,” Blaine said. “You should pay less attention to your father's advisers' opinion of you and more on what you're actually commanding.”

“I know exactly what I'm commanding,” Sebastian said, “and I don't need you to interfere.”

Blaine sighed. “Then what do you need me for?” he asked. “I really c a n't tell.”

Sebastian stared at him, again with this expression as if he couldn't possibly know. Eventually, he put a hand into Blaine's hair, pushing his head back into the wall. “You are mine,” he said, his voice so low that it was almost a growl. “You are my spouse, and it's about time that you remember.”

Blaine froze up, as the grip on his shoulder tightened, and then Sebastian was kissing him. Somewhere in his mind Blaine could remember a time when Sebastian's touch had been thrilling, his kisses welcome and exciting. Now, the touch  made his skin crawl , and the kiss  nauseated him .

“You. Are. Mine.”

The words were growled against his lips, followed by a bite. Blaine closed his eyes, waiting for it to be over...

“Mylord? I'm sorry to disturb you...”

“What?!”

With that grow l , Sebastian let go of him, and Blaine gasped for the thankfully fresh air. When he looked up, he could see Kurt standing  in front of the m. His first instinct was relief, but it immediately turned to fear. What was Kurt doing, putting himself into Sebastian's path?

Kurt was looking to his feet, clearly shaking and intimidated. “I'm sorry, but the lords... they need you there to end the meeting. They're asking for you to return.”

Sebastian glared at Kurt, then turned to Blaine, and eventually, he stormed off without another word.

Blaine waited for a moment until Sebastian was out of earshot, before he pushed himself away from the wall to step closer.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, putting a hand onto Kurt's arm for comfort.

Kurt looked up, and all fear and intimidation he had displayed before, fell off him. “Don't worry about me,” he said, “are  _you_ okay?”

Blaine was taken by surprise, and blinked in confusion. “But just now... you looked really upset.”

“I guessed that was what he wanted to see,” Kurt said. “It's fine, I just wanted him away from you.”

On reflex, Blaine looked around if anybody was near, but they were alone in the corridor.

“Don't tell me you're complaining,” Kurt said, raising an eyebrow.

“God, no,” Blaine said. “ _Thank you_. I'm just sorry you had to see that.”

“Well, _I'm_ sorry you had to bear that,” Kurt said. “So – are you okay?”

Blaine bit his lip, looking down. “Walk with me?” he suggested.

Kurt followed as they walked through the corridor, once more to the library. He couldn't deal with anyone right now, and he couldn't stand the thought of talking to Kurt somewhere he wasn't sure they couldn't be overheard. He didn't want to control his words when they were together.

“You seem tired lately,” Kurt said when they closed the door behind them. “Ever since Sebastian was put in charge... It's getting to you.”

Blaine shrugged, leaning against a wall. “It's exhausting,” he said. “He feels his position is threatened and I'm the one he feels most comfortable punching down on. I guess it will be better when this is over, but right now? It's... not good.”

Kurt sighed. He stepped closer, and took his hands. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “Maybe it will get better if they come back from the capitol.”

“My father is there,” Blaine said. “Not that he would have given me message about it. Lord Smythe told me.”

“Maybe he'll come and see you?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged. “I don't see that happening,” he said. “But sure, maybe.”

Kurt looked at him in hesitation. “You have to hold on,” he said. “I know it's tough, but you need to be strong. I'll do what I can – even if it means drawing his wrath onto me when he's harassing you again.”

Blaine laughed, and put his hands on Kurt's shoulders to hold on. “My hero,” he said.

Kurt's hands landed on his hips, two warm points of pressure. “My love,” he replied.

Blaine looked up at him, and had to blink tot keep the wetness from falling.  He could't even say why these two words touched him like this. Maybe it was because i n a way, this was like the stories  and fairy tales he had loved in his childhood. But back then, he had always thought of himself as the hero, the knight, who went on quests and destroyed the monsters. But that wasn't  his life . In reality, he was the princess, held in a castle, waiting for somebody to come and save him.

But all thought s about stories and princesses were dispelled when Kurt put their foreheads together.

“Don't think so much,” he said softly, and then placed the shortest, softest hint of a kiss against his lips.

“Can't help it,” Blaine said.

With a sigh, Kurt kissed him again, careful as if he was worried that Blaine was going to break underneath his touch, and maybe he wasn't so wrong about it.

Blaine turned away, and immediately, Kurt  stepped back , giving him the space he needed.

“You still want to kiss me, even after you sawthat?” Blaine asked, not daring to look into Kurt's eyes.

“I always want to kiss you,” Kurt said so softly that Blaine had to look up. “Nothing can change that. Not him, nothing.”

Blaine stared at him, not sure if he could believe it. He hated the feeling of Sebastian's touch on him, couldn't imagine Kurt tolerating it... and yet there he was, holding Blaine with firm hands, looking at hi m with soft eyes and adoration.  They had talked about this, had made the decision not to rush into anything. But right now, Blaine didn't have the strength left to resist.

“Then what's stopping you?” he asked.

Kurt smiled, stroking his fingers over Blaine's hipbone, and put another soft kiss onto his lips. “It's not our time,” he said softly. “But don't ever think that I don't want to be with you. I do, but...  One day, maybe. ”

Blaine didn't know what to say. His heart was overflowing, and he was glad they had gone somewhere else. With a sigh, he rushed forward, let himself fall into Kurt's arms, hide his face in his love's shoulder.

A day when they could be together... It was a nice dream. But for now, at least for a few moments, he chose to believe in it.

* * *

This was not how Sebastian had imagined things to be. When his father had told him that he would be in charge during their absence, he had thought that this was his chance. He could show his father that he could rule he castle and keep things in order. Maybe this could have been a new start. Once his father saw he could be trusted, there would be more tasks for him . He could work more with his father, maybe replace Hunter again as the favorite. But nothing was working out the way he had wanted it to. Whenever he wanted to make a decision, all he would hear was that his father already had made detailed plans on this matter, and if there was no plan, his advisers refused to make a decision, or  to  follow his orders until Lord Smythe himself had given the commands.

Even now, lying in bed he was still fuming. His advisers ignored him, the servants disrespected him... But really, what kind of respect could he demand from the people around him? He looked to his side. Blaine was lying there on his side, his back turned to Sebastian, and apparently fast asleep. Why would they respect him? He couldn't even keep Blaine in his bed every night. And even if he did, he didn't really  _have_ him. That was the problem. Who could respect him as a man if he couldn't even control his spouse, if he could be refused this easily?

Sebastian let his eyes roam over Blaine's body, and he felt the rage that had been boiling within him all day reach a new point. He could remember the beginning of their marriage... Blaine had been open, so welcoming... starved to be touched, to be taken... What had happened? Now he couldn't even get a willing kiss out of him.

Maybe that was because Hunter was right, because Blaine was too busy fucking that northern boy. And what did that say about Sebastian, that he allowed it? They probably all knew it, laughed about him when he wasn't looking.

Sebastian could break this right now. Maybe that was what he should do, just ignore all the games and politics, and take what was his...

And what would that make him? A man who couldn't get his own spouse to submit without using force? No, this was ridiculous. This was no way to regain control. But then what was? Where had things gone wrong?

Maybe it was his own fault. It had been good in the beginning. They had been happy together, and back then his father had started to trust him with more important tasks. Maybe if he hadn't stayed with  H unter all those months ago, if he hadn't taken up that old affair again, and if he had stayed faithful?

But that wouldn't have stopped Blaine from complaining, or Hunter from being a pain in the ass. His father didn't trust him, and that could hardly be the fault of some extramarital meddling...

It didn't matter anyway. He couldn't go back and change what he had done. All he could do was to move forward. If only he could figure out how...

But even thinking about it all night didn't help Sebastian get a grip on what he could do or change. He hardly slept, and when he got up, he felt more exhausted than he had at night. Blaine was still sleeping when Sebastian got up. For a moment, he considered waking his spouse, so he'd be ready for the meeting s today ... but no, Sebastian decided against it. Right now, h e didn't feel like having Blaine anywhere near him. He had thought it would help him to have his spouse sitting in for negotiations, that it would make him look more respectable to the advisers. But of course, it only reminded  them that he was abnormal, and it also showed that he wasn't even in control of his own spouse. Blaine's presence was making things worse, not better.  And things were bad enough.

He had understood that his father had given strict instructions on what was supposed to happen in his absence. But he would manage to push one issue, have his way in one point. The smuggler, who had cheated the northerners  out  of the money they were withholding from the king. He'd go free, and Sebastian would make sure of  it . No matter what  B laine or  the advisers sai d about it, Sebastian knew what he was doing, and he would make this happen.

He still had to waste most of his day with trivial things his father had ordered to be done. By the time he had time to meet the advisers, dinner was already drawing close. The day had been exhausting, just as the last few had been, and Sebastian wasn't too happy that he was already  this  tired, but it couldn't be helped. He would not have this delayed even more.

On the way  to the office, he happened to run into his father's chief adviser, though  he was apparently  not headed to their meeting.

“Where are you going? We have a meeting in a few minutes,” Sebastian said.

“Oh, weren't you informed? The meeting is called off,” the adviser said. “There's not much to discuss, most things are brought on the right path, and we already have a meeting scheduled for next week.”

“We still have to discuss the Ryerson matter,” Sebastian said, not sure he could believe what he was hearing.

“Um... Lord Sebastian, we have... actually no need to discuss the case any further,” their leader said.

Sebastian stilled. “Excuse  m e?”

The lead adviser looked uncomfortable, but then he straightened up and looked at Sebastian with a look of hardly veiled superiority. “The smuggler is not in our captivity anymore,” he said. “He's been sent to Lord Evans. After all, he is the one who's been given responsibility over the sea taxes by the king.”

Sebastian froze. “What?” he asked, although it didn't sound nearly as firm as he would have hoped it would. “Who allowed that?”

“I assure you this action follows your father's intention, and is well within the authority he invested in me,” the man said. “Apart from that, is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Lord Sebastian?”

Sebastian stared at him, still incredulous. How could they actually dare...

“In that case, I wish you a good day,” the adviser said, before he turned around and kept walking.

Sebastian stared after him, hardly able to believe what had just happened. Those bastards... those goddamn assholes... It wasn't enough that they didn't show him the respect he deserved – now they just went over his head. And he couldn't even do anything about it, as they were his father's advisers and not his own.

All he had wanted was one cause to go the way he wanted it to. Was that really asking too much?

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down the rage that filled him, but it was getting hard. It was starting to come together, the disrespect of his advisers, Blaine's cold shoulder, the fact that he hardly slept last night... He was sure if there was one more thing, he might just snap.

And apparently, that one thing was just around the corner, in form of that northern kitchen rat, that Sebastian spotted at the far end of the corridor – talking to none other than Blaine. Sebastian held his breath as he watched them. They were talking, although he couldn't hear about what. But Blaine was looking down, a self-conscious gesture he showed when he was flustered – a gesture Sebastian remembered from the beginning of their marriage... but now it was for that servant. The northern boy seemed to be laughing, then Blaine put a hand onto the boy' arm, smiling... and then the servant boy turned to walk away.

It made sense, suddenly. Even if Hunter was wrong, even  they weren't actually sleeping together ... it didn't matter.  Blaine cared about that kitchen rat, allowed him to see the heart he had closed to Sebastian a long time ago...

Sebastian felt cold, as if a breeze could blow him over any moment.

“Mylord?”

Sebastian turned to find one of the servants whose name he had forgotten, although he probably had taken him to bed at some point... The boy was holding papers, offering to him.

“Letters from the capitol, Mylord,” he said.

Sebastian took them from the boy's hands, not even bothering with saying a word to him. The boy left, and Sebastian started to look through them. On some of them, he could recognize his father's  or Hunter's  handwriting, and put those letters back. There had been too many instructions yet, and he was tired of reading more of them. What then caught his eye was another letter. It was addressed at Blaine, and the crest it bore was the Dalton bird.

Frowning, Sebastian took the letter and opened it. When he looked down to the end of the page, he could see that it was signed by Blaine's father. He started to read from the beginning.

By the time he finished the letter, his hands were shaking from rage. So this was it? His father didn't trust him, the advisers thought they could ignore him, and Blaine? He had run crying to the family that had abandoned him to complain about Sebastian's failure as a husband. They were right, then, all those knights and advisers. What kind of man couldn't even control their spouse? They were laughing about him.  _Blaine_ was probably laughing about him, together with that kitchen rat.

When Sebastian looked up, he saw Blaine walking down the corridor, still smiling. Sebastian felt his rage get even stronger. He was walking before he had even made the conscious decision to do so. Blaine turned around to look up when he heard the approach. He opened his mouth, maybe to ask what was wrong, but Sebastian didn't even allow him to speak. He clinched his hands around Blaine's shoulders, pushing him against the wall.

“What the hell?!”

* * *

Blaine wasn't sure why, but he had a slightly better feeling about today. He thought back to yesterday, how good he had felt during those short stolen moments with Kurt. And it was true, soon Lord Smythe would come back, then Sebastian would hopefully calm down. For a moment, he had even allowed himself to indulge in the thought that his father was going to come visit him, but if he was honest with himself, he knew he didn't have much hope there. What kind of support should he expect from his father, who had been ready to cast him out of the family?

But he wasn't alone. No matter how threatening the situation was, how moody Sebastian acted – he wasn't alone. And if he could rely on that...

There were footsteps coming closer. Blaine looked around, surprised at their vehemence. He knew something was wrong when he saw Sebastian stalking up to him, apparently fuming, and with  a  paper scroll in his hand.

Before he had the chance to ask what was going on, Sebastian’s arms shot out, pinning him against the wall.

“What the hell?!”

Blaine gasped, looking at him in confusion. “What-”

“What the hell is this?!”

There was spit flying from Sebastian's mouth, and the grip on his shoulders got so hard it was starting to hurt.

“Let go,” he hissed.

But Sebastian ignored him, just grabbed his arm and dragged him through the corridor, right to the next room. The door flew open, and the next moment, Sebastian pushed him inside. Blaine stumbled from the force, and could just catch himself from falling to the floor.

He could hear a squeal, and as he looked up he saw that the room – a minor storage – hadn't been empty. Kitty, the servant girl, was staring at them wide-eyed, a hand clasped over her mouth,  the other holding a rag she had been using to clean the shelves . For a moment, Sebastian seemed to stop, but then he just glared, and spat a “get out!” at her. The girl suppressed a shriek, but then she hurried to leave the room.

If Blaine had hoped that Sebastian had calmed down, he had been wrong. As he looked up, he got the scroll pushed so close in front of his eyes that it nearly hit him.

“What the fuck is this?!”

“What-”

“Did you actually think I wouldn't find out about this? After everything I've done for you... you'd be _dead_ without me! Your family would have cast you out to the streets, how long do you think you could have survived on your own?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“This!” Now Sebastian actually threw the scroll at him.

Blaine had to grab quickly so it wouldn't fall down. The first thing he saw was the broken seal of Dalton, and the next thing he saw was that it was addressed to him, in the handwriting he knew to be his father's.

“What-”

“You dare to complain? I've taken you to live with me, after your family cast you out. Your father didn't want you anymore, you were dead to him the moment he found out what you are. I was there. I'm your _husband_! And what do you do? You dare to go to your father of all people to complain about me?”

Blaine blinked, trying to combine all the information that bombarded him between trying to decipher the letter within his own, violently shaking hands, and trying to filter the sense of what Sebastian was yelling at him. He leaned against the wall, trying to get away as far as possible from Sebastian, who had now started pacing right in front of him.

“You're reading my letters?” Blaine asked.

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Sebastian said. “What's so hard for you to understand about that? I'm your husband, I'm in charge of you!”

“I'm your husband, too. Why the hell are you in charge of me?” Blaine replied.

Sebastian stopped, staring at him as if the mere idea of it all was ridiculous. “But you're... I'm...”

“Well?”

“You're living in my family's castle!” Sebastian snapped. “And unlike you, I have not been cast out by my family.”

“I was _not_ cast out,” Blaine gritted. “And stop acting like you picked me up from the street, this is an arranged match, and it wouldn’t even have happened if your family hadn't destroyed Quinn.”

“Quinn Fabray wasn't an option, and your father would have cast you out if this marriage hadn't been convenient to you!”

“I wouldn't have been in that situation without you,” Blaine yelled back. “You are not the hero that saved me, you did not treat me right, and you are not in charge of me! We hold the same status, you are not better than me, and just because we live with your family doesn't mean I don't have one.”

“Oh yeah? Read!”

Under Sebastian's continued pacing, Blaine looked to the scroll, tried to decipher what his father had written. The further he read, the colder he felt. His father was talking about complaints he had heard. All he could imagine was that the servants had reported at Dalton just what had happened, how he was treated by Sebastian, the family, the servants... and he could definitively tell that his father wasn't happy about it at all. Particularly, he was unhappy not with Sebastian, but with Blaine himself.

Blaine's eyes widened as he took in the rest of the words. He could almost hear his father saying the things he had written into the letter.  _You have made your bed, now lie in it... I will hear no more complaints... If this union falls through, I will blame you for it, and I will_ not _allow you to set foot within Dalton borders ever again... You'll do what that family wants from you, and you will be happy about it..._

It all came down to one thing. His father may not know everything, but he knew enough, and he chose not to hear anything else... and he didn't care.  When he looked up, he saw Sebastian had stopped pacing and was looking right at him.

“You see?” he said, once he was sure Blaine was done reading. “I'm the family you have, not Dalton. You're in my power, you're my husband, and maybe it's time you act accordingly. And this? After everything I've done for you... that's the kind of thanks I get? The kind of respect you give me? You go fuck your northern boy and then you turn around and tell your father I'm not treating you right?”

Something inside Blaine snapped. He wasn't sure what it was – Sebastian pulling Kurt into this fight, or maybe the letter from his father... it didn't matter. But some dam broke, and out came what he'd been holding back far too long.

“I'm not fucking _anyone_ , you goddamn asshole!” Blaine yelled back. “You're the one who can't stop having affair after affair. And why? Because you can't deal with the fact that your father doesn't love you. You can't be what he wants, so you go out of your way to scandalize him. You think fucking every servant who doesn't run away fast enough shows you're a man. Well, you're not. You're a spoiled child, and that's how everybody sees you. That's why you can't get respect, not from your father, not from your brothers, not the knights, and definitely not from me. You're pathetic, Sebastian, and I don't understand what I ever saw in you.”

It might not have been the smartest idea to say all this, but god, if it didn't feel good to let it out after months of keeping it all bottled up. It was liberating.

But Sebastian stared at him, his fists clenching further with every word, his face distorted by fury, and then he raised his hand.

“Shut up!”

The words came as Sebastian's fist connected with his face, the impact hard enough to make Blaine stumble and fall back. Before he managed to get his balance back he fell against one of the shelves, hard enough to make it shake. Sebastian  came closer and  then struck him again .

“You are _mine_ ,” Sebastian repeated.

“I'm not,” Blaine spat out. “We may be in a union, but you don't own me.”

“Shut _up!”_

The next thing he knew, Sebastian’s hands closed around his throat.

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up!”_

There was no air to protest. Blaine's hands flew up, he tried to pry Sebastian's hands off his throat, but the more he tried, the stronger the pressure got. Panic was rising within him. He couldn't breathe... He had to get away, he had to get some air, but Sebastian's hands were compressing his throat, choking the air and life out of him, and...

And he couldn't fight back. He wasn't strong enough, and nobody was here to help him. Kurt wasn't here,  and who else in this place would even  _care_ ?

He already felt himself getting weaker. This couldn't be it... this couldn't be the end... His fingers clawed into Sebastian's hands, trying desperately to pry them off, but it felt as if that only made the pressure worse. He wanted to scream, but there was no air...

Black spots appeared in his field of vision, getting bigger and more persistent. And still, all he could hear was Sebastian’s voice, telling him to shut up, and...

There wasn't enough strength left in him to fight back. Blaine felt his arms drop, as he couldn't hold them up anymore, and then...

Then...

Darkness.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cliffhangers, don't you?  
> But hey, I figured after that one I can't leave the chapter lying around half-finished for too long, so here it is.

* * *

Sebastian was seeing red. It hadn't been enough to be disrespected by knights, by his own servants, and his father's advisers. It hadn't sufficed that Blaine hadn't been a real spouse to him in months, neither in public nor in their bedroom, or that he kept his northern _pet_ with him. Then they had taken the one thing he had wanted to achieve... and then Blaine again, always and always Blaine...

With a gasp, Sebastian stumbled back, his hands letting go in shock. The haze of red was starting to lift, and his own ragged breathing echoed in his ears. But as his senses slowly started to come back to him, so did the rest of the situation. He looked down, slightly scared of what he was going to see.

Blaine was leaning against the shelf, his body limp and his head slumped against his chest. He wasn't moving.

Sebastian stared, unable to move. God, what had he _done_?

“No,” he muttered, “God, no...”

He went to his knees and grabbed Blaine's shoulders, shook him in an attempt to wake him up. He couldn't be... Sebastian had only lost his cool for a few moments, it couldn't have such a fatal consequence...

He didn't even know how long he had been choking Blaine, but certainly it couldn't have been lethal... he couldn't have...  _killed_ somebody. It wasn't possible. He couldn't... Of course, he had been trained in combat as all young nobles were, but he had never actually fought, had never  _killed_ . And Blaine...

Relief flooded through Sebastian like sweet, sweet air after staying under water for too long.

Blaine was breathing.  He was alive. Whatever Sebastian had done, it could still be fixed. First of all, he'd send the northerner to hell, and then he and Blaine would figure something out. It couldn't be too late yet for them.

But how was he supposed to face Blaine, look at him, talk to him after what he had just done? How was anybody supposed to come back from this?

The next exhale left Blaine's mouth as something between a whimper and a groan.

Sebastian couldn't face him. Not today. Blaine would be fine, and they could talk about all this later. But right now... no, he couldn't do this.

Without looking back, he turned around and almost ran out of the room.

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure if he should be happy  o r not that he had no clearly defined duties at the Smythe castle. Sometimes he was given tasks, but mostly it was understood that he was here to look after Blaine. Given the tone among the servants, Kurt was glad he didn't have to spend too much time with them. On the other hand, it meant lots of boredom, and that wasn't something Kurt was used to – or liked very much, as it turned out.

He had retreated to the kitchens. Blaine had expected he'd have to go to a meeting about some smuggler or something – really, a meeting about Sebastian's ego, that much was obvious even to Kurt – and so, he'd decided to work on a  dessert as a cheer up. None off the other servants even cared, and at least it gave him something to do.

The quiet of the busy kitchen was over, of course, as the door flew open and Kitty came running in. Kurt looked up on reflex, but turned away again. Sure, she seemed upset, but he didn't particularly like her, and he couldn't imagine that whatever was gong on with her had anything to do with him.

That was, of course, until she gripped his arm to turn him around. Kurt's annoyance faded once he got a closer look at her face. She wasn't just upset, she looked horrified. “You have to come, he's completely losing his mind!”

“What... Blaine?” Kurt asked.

“Lord Sebastian,” she hissed. “Come _on!_ ”

Kurt wasn't sure what to think, but the urgency in Kitty's words was obvious, so he followed.

“What's going on?” he asked, as she led him upstairs.

“They fought about something, something about a letter,” Kitty said.

Kurt froze, thinking back of the letter he'd had delivered to the countess of Dalton. Could it be about that?  C ould it be that his attempt to make things better for Blaine had ended up making everything even worse?

“Lord Sebastian, he was just... screaming, and losing it, he got so angry, he got really violent,” Kitty continued.

“Is Blaine okay?” Kurt asked.

“Last thing I saw he was being _choked_ , so I guess it depends on how much he needs air?”

Kurt stared at her, almost stumbled, but then picked up the pace. Th e y were running now, and Kurt was grateful that the girl was quick enough to not slow them down.

“Choked?”

“That's what I said,” Kitty snapped back. “And look at me, I can't intervene. He'd swat me away like a fly. But you can do something.”

Kurt wasn't sure how well he'd do in an actual fight with Sebastian, but he knew as sure as death that he was going to try. His heart was beating faster than a horse's gallop, and it was only partially because of the running. Blaine was in danger, could be  _dying_ right now...

Kitty stopped in front of a door that Kurt remembered leading to a small storage. She just pointed in, clearly not willing to enter the room and face Sebastian. It didn't matter, none of it did – not Kitty, not Sebastian or the question whether Kurt could actually take him. Blaine was all that mattered.

But there was no trace of Sebastian as Kurt stepped into the storage. For a moment, he even thought the room was empty – until he saw a figure slumped together in front of one of the shelves. Kurt came closer, and now all the adrenaline he had felt before seemed to fade away,  and turn ed into a ball of  dread resting somewhere beneath his stomach.

He knelt down in front of Blaine, not sure what to do. He put one hand into the young lord's hair and pushed his head back against the shelf to see his face.

Blaine's face had taken a bluish tint, especially around the swollen lids closed over his eyes. There were dark dots around his eyes and on his lips, and a bit of blood pooling under his nose, His throat showed dark bruises, and crescent shaped cuts as if from finger nails. There was no reaction to Kurt's presence. Blaine was unconscious – but he was breathing, taking at least some of the weight off Kurt's shoulders. He was alive.

Softly, Kurt stroked through Blaine's hair as he slowly started to regain his own breath. Alive... and safe for now...

But for how long? If Sebastian could lose his mind like that... then Blaine wasn't safe here. It was one thing to know he was treated horribly, but it was completely different to have his life in danger.

A noise came out of Blaine's throat. It sounded almost like a whimper. Kurt focused on him. Blaine's eyelids fluttered, and as Kurt held his breath, his eyes slowly opened. For a what felt like an eternity, there was just confusion in his gaze, and then a jolt of panic. Blaine flinched back, his head hitting the shelf behind him.

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay, don't be afraid,” Kurt said, taking hold of Blaine's waist. “I'm here, it's okay, you're safe. He's gone.”

“He... he...” Blaine looked at him out of half closed eyes that were clearly full of panic. His voice was hoarse, almost croaking.

“I know,” Kurt said. “But he's gone now.”

“I... But... I can't...” Blaine seemed so disorientated, so confused and scared... But alive.

“I've got you,” Kurt said. “Don't be scared, I'm here, I've got you, you're safe.”

“Kurt...” It was hardly more than a gasp. He couldn't remember ever seeing Blaine this scared, this small and helpless. Tears were starting to run down his cheeks, and Kurt could have sworn there were dots of blood in them. His heart breaking in a completely new way, he bowed forward and pulled Blaine into his arms. For what felt like an eternity, he just held the young lord as close as he could. Blaine was crying now, sobbing and gasping for breath. His hands were clutched into Kurt's shirt, even though it was only a weak grip.

“It's going to be okay,” Kurt said softly against his curls. “I won't let him touch you again.” He allowed himself to press a soft kiss into Blaine's hair, holding him close.

He almost regretted it, when he heard the noise o somebody clearing their throat. Again, a shudder went through him. He had forgotten about Kitty. What kind of help could he expect from her of all people, especially after how she had betrayed Quinn Fabray all that time ago?

He turned around to get a better impression on what was going on with the girl. She had stepped into the storage and had the door almost closed. She looked a bit shaken herself but also contemplative.

“You don't want anybody to see him like this,” she said. “And you definitely don't want anybody to see the two of you together. Just get him somewhere hidden. Lord Hunter's rooms are empty at the moment.”

“What about the library?” Kurt asked.

“That should work,” Kitty said. “But hurry up, there's not much going on at the moment, you should have noticed by now that the castle gets more busy around dinnertime.”

Kurt wondered just how he was supposed to do that, get the still sobbing boy in his arms to get up and walk to the library.

“Blaine? Can you get up? We have to go, do you think you can walk?”

There was a diffused nodding against his neck, but Blaine made no attempt to get up. It took some more prodding until Kurt managed to get him to his feet, and even then he wouldn't move until he got hold of the letter lying on the ground at his feet. Kurt was burning to ask what was in it, but he knew better than to ask in front of Kitty.

Blaine had calmed down more, starting to suppress the sobs that were still racking his body. Softly, Kurt pulled out the young lord's handkerchief and started to wipe the tears and traces of blood out of his face as well as he could. Once he looked presentable enough, he put a hand to Blaine's waist to stabilize him, before they started to walk. Kitty was in front of them, apparently looking out for anybody who might see them. But as she had said, the castle was still quiet, so they didn't encounter anybody until they arrived at the library.

“I'll be right with you,” Kitty said, before she turned around and walked down the corridor, probably to the kitchens.

Kurt didn't feel too good about it. He wasn't even sure why she had been nice to them. But he had to be calm for Blaine's sake, so he just brought the young lord into the library. Blaine was completely docile as he followed, too shocked and exhausted from that assault. Quickly, Kurt arranged the pillows and blankets under the colored glass window before he made Blaine sit down and covered him up. Still, Blaine had his hand clutched around the scroll in his hand.

“What is that?” Kurt asked softly.

“A letter,” Blaine answered, his voice still hoarse. “From my father. I think Emma told him what happened at the feast.”

“So what does he say?” Kurt asked.

Blaine laughed, but Kurt couldn't remember hearing anything more bitter than this. After a few seconds, the laughter turned into coughing. Blaine raised a hand to cover his mouth. His face was distorted, clearly he was in pain. he made a small whimper, and as Kurt looked down, he could see that in his hand, too, there were spots of blood.

“Read,” Blaine croaked, averting his face.

While literate, Kurt didn't get much practice in reading – the letter to Dalton had taken him ages to write – and so he had to concentrate, taking way too long to decipher Earl Anderson's handwriting. As he read, his heart fell. Dalton had been his last hope, and now he had to face the fact, that no help would come from there.

What on earth was he going to do?

“They don't care,” Blaine said. “You told me, remember? Even back at the capital, you said they don't care about me. And you were right...”

“They would care about _this_ ,” Kurt said, unbelieving.

“No,” Blaine said, “you read it. I could die, and all he'd care about would be what that would do to his damn alliance.”

Kurt wished there was something to say that would make this better – but there wasn't. “I'm so sorry,” he said instead.

“Don't be,” Blaine said. “You tried...”

They were sitting together quietly.  Kurt felt so helpless. If Blaine's family wouldn't help, then who could he turn to? And now it was even more urgent to get Blaine out. Mistreatment was one thing, but now Kurt had to worry that Sebastian might kill him. How close had it been just now?

“Kurt?”

He looked back to Blaine, who was fixating him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Yes?”

As Blaine blinked, tears welled up again. “I... I need...”

Kurt took his hands in his and stroked over the skin. “You can tell me anything,” he said. “Whatever you need, just say it.”

Blaine closed his eyes, maybe from exhaustion. “I need you to go.”

Kurt frowned. That couldn't mean what he thought... “Go where?”

Blaine sighed, and then looked at him. “I need you to go home, Kurt,” he said. “You have to leave.”

Kurt froze. “What?”

“It's not safe,” Blaine said, “and you promised that you'd leave if it got too dangerous. And now it has. I was only thinking of Lord Smythe, but it’s Sebastian...”

“What about Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Look at me,” he said. “This is what he did to me. What do you think he'll do to you? He already thinks we're sleeping together. If he loses his temper again... I can't keep you here. It's too dangerous, and I-” He started coughing again, unable to finish the sentence.

“He's going to kill you,” Kurt said once the coughing had stilled.

Blaine looked back to him again. He looked utterly defeated, and the tears were falling again. “I know,” he whispered.

Kurt stared at him. He could understand how Blaine had come to this conclusion, but... he couldn't possibly accept it. He hadn't been able to leave Blaine when it had just been about bad treatment. How could he leave Blaine here when his life was in danger?

But before he could say something, he could hear the door open. He jumped to his feet,, but it was just Kitty coming in. She was carrying a tray with a steaming jug and cups.

“I thought you could need some of this,” she said as she put the tray down on the table and filled the cups, offering one to Blaine first. If she noticed the tenseness, she didn't show it.

“Tea?” Kurt asked, glancing at the liquid, as she handed him a cup for himself. He noticed dark spots on her fingers.

“Grog,” Kitty replied.

Kurt frowned. “I don't know that drink,” he said.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “More for him, then,” she said.

Blaine took a sip and shuddered, but he seemed happy with it.

“I put some honey in it. Should help with your throat,” Kitty said.

It was strange to see her this nice – and clearly, she was feeling awkward in this situation, too.

“Soo... you're going to be okay?” she asked, looking between them. “Do you need anything else? I have to go back to the kitchens and, you know, do actual work.”

Kurt was just about to dismiss her, when he saw the dark spots again, and suddenly realized what they were. That was what his own hands had looked like after he had written the letter to Dalton. Now that he thought about it... that had been a long time, just to make this weird drink...

“If you have a moment,” Kurt said, before he turned to Blaine. “I'll be right back, just lie down and try to relax.”

Kitty frowned, but followed him to the door. “What is it?” she asked, as they stepped outside.

“Why are you so nice?” Kurt asked.

Kitty looked taken aback. “I can be nice,” she said.

“Why should I trust you?”

Now, she was starting to get angry. “You wouldn't even know what happened to him if it hadn't been for me!”

“And Quinn Fabray wouldn't have been sent to the streets if it hadn't been for you,” Kurt said.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Oh, don't worry about the  _princess_ , she's doing great. And that wasn't my choice. Lord Smythe was the one who even sent me to work for the Fabray family. What was I supposed to do against him?”

Kurt wasn't sure how to respond to that. She seemed to notice, as she just shrugged.

“Girls like me have to see how they get around in this world,” she said. “I'd say Quinn is doing better now than she was before.”

“I don't even know where she is,” Kurt admitted.

“She found somebody to look out for her,” Kitty said, “and so have I.”

“The same person you've written to?” Kurt asked, pointedly looking at her fingers.

She looked to her fingers, and actually looked caught. Eventually, she shrugged again. “As I said, somebody to look out for me.”

“Who?” Kurt asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Who is looking out for you?” Kurt asked. “Can they help Blaine? Will they look out for him as well?”

For a moment, Kitty hesitated, but then she answered. “She already is.”

“But who is she?” Kurt asked.

“Nobody would believe you if you told anyone,” Kitty said, “and if you did, you would only hurt your lord.”

Kurt's eyes widened. “You're a northern spy,” he said.

“The Queen in the North might have a use for him,” she replied. “She's going to be concerned about what happened today... I'm not sure even she foresaw this...”

“But canthey help him?” Kurt asked. “The north, can they do anything to get him out of here?”

“Well, after today I'd say they're his best chance,” Kitty said. “They need Dalton's support, and they think he will be useful for that.”

“How can I help?”

“Convince him that he can't stay here,” Kitty said, “we might have to leave quickly when the orders come.”

“Alright, then,” Kurt said. “And thank you – I think I've misjudged you.”

Kitty rolled her eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, sure, now if you'll excuse me...”

Kurt stayed outside for a moment, leaning against the door. He needed a moment to think. Dalton wouldn't help  Blaine ... but just maybe, the north would. As he returned inside, he found that Blaine had emptied the cup and put it away. As Kurt approached, he could see that the young lord's eyes were closed. For a moment, he looked as if he had fallen asleep, but then his eyes fluttered open, and he turned to Kurt.

With a sigh, Kurt sat down beside him and put a kiss onto his forehead.

“Is everything okay?” Blaine asked.

Kurt almost wanted to laugh at this. Was there really anything okay at the moment? But at least things hadn't become worse.

“We'll deal with it tomorrow,” Kurt said. “I want you to rest, and calm down. Tomorrow, we'll talk about what we're going to do next. But Blaine... there's one thing I have to make clear.”

“What's that?” Blaine asked.

Kurt looked straight into his eyes, and made sure that he was paying close attention, before he started to talk. “I will not leave you here. No matter what, I'm not leaving this place without you. It was one thing when I thought it was just about them treating you bad. But I will not leave you here  if your life is in danger.”

“But you can't stay here,” Blaine protested.

“Neither can you. I will not leave you here when I have to be worried any day that Sebastian lost his temper again, that he hurt you or worse. I know it's not safe for me either, but I don't care. I will not leave you, Blaine.”

The young lord looked as if he wanted to argue even more. But Kurt shook his head. “No, we'll talk tomorrow. For now, you need to rest.”

He took the cup Kitty had poured for him and gently coaxed Blaine into drinking it, too. Surely, the warm liquid would help with his throat.

“We _will_ talk about this tomorrow,” Blaine said.

“I promise,” Kurt replied. He put the cup away, and then lay down beside Blaine, pulling him into an embrace. “Now sleep... things will look brighter tomorrow.”

* * *

The rays of sunlight filtered through the colored glass, painting patterns onto the library floor. It had been a long time since Blaine had noticed how beautiful it looked. Strange, that with all the time he had hidden here, he had never really noticed it.

He looked to his side, where he saw Kurt still asleep. Just looking at him was enough to make Blaine smile. He put a hand into Kurt's hair, stroking through the soft strands, and tried to just figure out how he felt.

Everything from his throat up was sore and aching, even his eyes. But to his surprise, he felt just... calm. He wasn't scared of Sebastian, not upset about his father's abandonment. It hurt, yes, but it wasn't as sharp a pain as it had been yesterday.

He sat up and leant back against the stone. He would use this time – this precious time in which his head didn't seem like perfect chaos – and think. It was clear that he had to. He couldn't go on like this.

So this was the situation he had ended up in. Lord Smythe would try to control him, Sebastian was such a wild card that he'd end up to be the death of Blaine sooner or later, his family had discarded him after all... and then there was Kurt, who would stay here and risk his own life for Blaine's sake.

The easiest thing would be to convince Kurt to return back to the north and be safe. What would he have to lose then? He'd only have to do his best to stay alive. It couldn't be so hard, especially once Lord Smythe came back. But even then, Sebastian's temper was unpredictable, and also, Kurt had been insistent yesterday that he would not leave.

What then? What was he supposed to do now?

If he stayed, then sooner or later, he would die. If he wanted to save himself, then he had to leave this place. But he couldn't go back to Dalton. Run away then... and what would that do to the political situation? A war would come... the king would consider Dalton's loyalty in question... and between north and south, who knew how Dalton would fare?

No, he couldn't just run. He owed Dalton, he owed his family...

What exactly did he owe his family? They had abandoned him, and that letter had made it clear that his father wouldn't even care if he died. And the people of Dalton... hadn't he tried enough? How much more could they ask of him?

What did he owe Kurt? The boy he loved, the only one who had even care to look out for him, who was now in danger because of him...

Maybe it would be easier if he had died yesterday...

Blaine felt his throat close up at the thought, fear breaking through the calm he had felt before.

It made sense, though. If he died, nobody would blame Dalton. They'd find a new reason for an alliance, his family would be safe. And Kurt would have no reason to stay here anymore. He could go home and be safe there.

But... he didn't want to die.

The thought was clear, and though it should be obvious, it felt like a revelation.

Blaine wanted to live. And not just like this, like it had been the last months. He couldn't do it anymore, sit here and somehow bear day after day... He wanted his life back, a real one.

As the calm settled on him once more, he felt better. For so long he had allowed himself to become a play ball, for his father's ambitions, Lord Smythe, all these politics...

Maybe it was time to take control of his life.

Beside him, he felt Kurt stirring. He could see the confusion of waking up as his eyes opened, then Kurt turned to look at him and sat up.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I'm good,” Blaine replied, still a bit surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.

Kurt sighed as he sat up beside him. “Blaine... Don't do this. I know you're not okay.”

Blaine felt warmth rush through him. There was so much care in the way Kurt looked at him, touched him... Kurt was still trying to look out for him, to make things as good for him as they could. He was ready to offer all the strength that Blaine needed, hadn't been able to find within himself for way too long...

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to do this much longer.

“No, Kurt, I am. My throat hurts, but I'm... I will be okay. I've had some time to think. Last night, you said... you said you wouldn't leave this place without me, right?”

Kurt nodded. “I won't. And maybe I don't have to. But are you really up for this conversation?”

“If we have some water left here,” Blaine said. Already, his throat was feeling a bit sore from talking.

“We do. But there's also more of that grog thing,” Kurt said.

Blaine shuddered. “You know that's mostly rum, don't you?”

“Oh. Water it is then,” Kurt said and got up to pour him some. “But really, I mostly need you to listen for now.”

“Oh?” Blaine looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay then, I'm listening.”

“You might have someone looking out for you,” Kurt said.

Blaine frowned. “Beside you?”

“Someone who can actually do something about this,” Kurt said. “I got it out of Kitty yesterday. She's more than she seems. She's in contact with the north, and they're interested in getting you out of here.”

Blaine frowned. “ _Kitty_? Why would she work for the north?”

“They took care of Quinn, too. I think when they got in contact with her, they also reached out to Kitty. She's spying on the Smythe family for them.”

“So... Quinn is okay?”

“That's what I said. She told me that the north wants Dalton on their side, so they will try to help you – especially now that Sebastian is so unstable.”

Blaine leaned back, and tried to order the things he had just heard into the things he already knew and understood. The north was trying to sway Dalton... that did make sense.

“But my father would never change sides,” he said, “especially not over me.”

“They must have a plan for that, too,” Kurt said, frowning too. “What about Cooper?”

“Huh... more likely, although I have a really hard time seeing him going against father's wishes,” Blaine said. “And they'd have to put Cooper in charge over my father.”

“You think they want to kill your father?” Kurt asked, shocked now.

Blaine shook his head. “No, I don't think so. If they did, Cooper would never cooperate with them. They could however make him abdicate...  _if_ they get Cooper on their side and he can convince enough of the knights to side with him over our father.”

“And what if Cooper wasn't on board?”

Blaine hesitated. “If  he doesn't agree...  t hen they could get rid of him, too.”

“Leaving Dalton to you,” Kurt finished. “Do you think that's their plan? They save you from here to install you as the new earl of Dalton?”

“I would owe them loyalty if they did,” Blaine said. “but that wouldn't take away from my marriage to Sebastian, even if it worked and even if I did agree to do it.”

“They want to use you,” Kurt said. “Maybe they want to do something about that marriage, too?”

“And what's that supposed to be?” Blaine asked.

“Maybe they could kill Sebastian,” Kurt suggested.

Blaine stared at him. “Are you serious?”

Kurt shrugged. “Don't tell me you'd waste a tear for him,” he said. “Besides, how else do you end a marriage?”

Blaine tilted his head back as he thought about that. How did a marriage get dissolved?

“Well, death is one way,” he said, “the high priest can dissolve marriages, but the church is siding with the south. I guess if the north went up against them, they might ignore it and listen to their own religious leaders, and of course there's annulment, but you need a reason for that, and... Oh my god.” His eyes widened as he looked to Kurt. It had clicked, and finally it made sense. “They have Quinn.”

“Yes, I told you,” Kurt said.

“No, Kurt... they have Quinn. I was engaged to her. For marriage, not a union!”

Kurt frowned. “I... don't follow.”

“Marriages are valued more than unions,” Blaine said. “Most people use the words as if they meant the same thing, but that's not true, not really. A marriage is always prioritized.”

“So... your engagement to Quinn is more important than your union with Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

“Well, it was dissolved, when the news of her pregnancy came out,” Blaine said. “But that was my father's choice... they could argue that since I didn't dissolve it... it still exists.”

“So... let me sum this up. Their plan is to take you north, declare your marriage to Sebastian void and have you marry Quinn instead?”

“They probably established her into one of the northern noble families,” Blaine said. “I'm... Actually I'm not sure. It would make sense, though. Or maybe they don't have Quinn, but... if they want to get any use out of me, they have to cut my bonds to the south, and that means dissolving the union. And then they have to put either Cooper or me in charge of Dalton.” He started to cough again, and Kurt quickly filled up his cup again.

As he drank, he could almost see the wheels turning in Kurt's mind. “That's an option then,” he said. “They can help you out, they can get you to safety, and you can go home. Just like that.”

Blaine nodded.

Kurt shook his head. “This is it? It's almost too good to be true... Where's the catch?”

“The catch?” Blaine repeated. “There's a huge catch.”

“What, marrying Quinn?” Kurt asked. “I don't see her being worse than Sebastian.”

Blaine felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. “She wouldn't  be ,” he said. “But it's not Quinn. Well... not just her.”

“What is it then?”

“It will definitely force Dalton to side with the north when it comes to a war. And I don't actually think Cooper will go against father, and mother won't abandon him either. So my family will have to leave Dalton, and they'll put me in charge.”

“Your family made _you_ leave Dalton,” Kurt said.

“That wouldn't make it right,” Blaine replied. “And I can't rule Dalton... I have no experience, no leadership skills – especially not the abilities required to get Dalton through a war between north and south. Whatever I will do, I'll be under the north's direct control. I'd be nothing but Lady Sylvester's puppet. And they'd make me marry some northern girl, or Quinn. And god help me if I don't manage to produce an heir...”

Kurt frowned, but he nodded. “It doesn't sound good,” he said, “but Blaine... it's  _much_ better than staying here.”

“It is,” Blaine agreed. “But I'm exhausted, Kurt. I'm tired of just being a play ball... and tired of politics, and my family, and this place and Dalton, and.... _everything_.”

Kurt looked as if he wanted to protest, to fight and to make him agree. But instead, he took a deep breath, took Blaine's hand s , and looked right at him.

“You have to make a choice, Blaine. Stay here, or leave, but either way... it will be a choice. So what do you want to do?”

Blaine hesitated. What he wanted... For the first time in forever, he  _knew_ what he wanted, but he was scared to ask. The words were stuck in his throat. But then he thought back on how Kurt had put himself out there, had been brave before. He could do the same thing, if only he showed some courage. He gripped Kurt's hands in return and looked straight back into his eyes.

“Run away with me.”

Kurt just stared at him, not even blinking. Blaine was starting to wonder whether he had even understood the words.

“...what?” Kurt asked eventually.

Blaine tried to ignore the rapid beating of his heart. “You were right, when you said we should just run. I was stupid and blind back then, but... not anymore. I can see it now. I love you. I don't know what the rest of my life will be – but I know that I want to spend it with you.”

“I... But...” Kurt stopped, tilting his head in confusion as if he couldn't understand the direction their conversation had taken. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“I am,” Blaine said. “So.. what do you say?”

Kurt blinked, and Blaine could see that there were tears in his eyes now. “Of course,” he whispered.

All nervousness fell from Blaine's shoulders as Kurt surged forward into his arms. Finally, he felt as if he had made a right decision. It would be tough, of course, and they'd have to be very careful about it, especially if he wanted to avoid harming Dalton and its people. But he had hope. He would get out of this place, and Kurt would be with him, they could be together, and not as the farce of an affair he would have been able to offer so far. And maybe then the both of them would be able to have some control over their lives again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story has been a bit slow lately, but it's been a bit stressful lately. And I really had problems writing the first part, so I just put it off. But I finally figured out where I wanted it to go. And speaking of figuring it out, there will be two more chapters after this.  
> ...not bad for something that originally was supposed to have seven parts.

* * *

Blaine wasn't sure he had ever felt this exhausted and restless at the same time. It had been a long day, full of stress, planning and hard work. And then, there was of course everything that had happened last night. His throat was still sore, speaking for too long was painful, and even swallowing hurt. But he had tried not to let it show. Kurt was worried enough by only seeing the bruises, and there was no reason to cause him any more concern than this.

They had decided to leave as soon as possible. There was nothing to be gained from waiting, and it would be safer to get away before Lord Smythe returned or the Queen in the North could initiate whatever she had planned. The best time to get away was now.

Of course, techincally, the best time had been back then at the capitol, but Blaine tried not to lose himself in regrets and thoughts about what could have been. Well, not too much. At least not when he had to concentrate so their plan would work.

But now everything was on track. They were prepared, and things would go well. They had to. He'd hate to have spent the whole day trying to find that damn ossuary for nothing, or digging through it while they were trying to look out for anybody coming in...

“You're thinking really loud right now.”

Blaine turned to Kurt, who was walking beside him, carrying an inconspicuous sack the thought of which made Blaine shudder.

“I'm tired,” he said. “And there's a lot to think about.”

“I know,” Kurt said. “I'm nervous, too. But it's a good plan. We can do this.”

Blaine smiled at him, hoping it didn't seem too tense. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Kurt said. “But try to find at least a little bit of sleep. Everything is prepared, we just need to wait for the right time. You look like you really need to rest.”

“I don't think I could sleep,” Blaine said. “And what if I just sleep through it?”

“You won't,” Kurt said. “We'll get you – and this here – to the library now, you get some sleep while I get you some food from the kitchen, and before I go to the servants' quarters, I'll wake you up again. Does that sound okay?”

“How can you be so calm?” Blaine asked. “Aren't you nervous?”

“Of course I am,” Kurt said, “but I think it's enough for one of us to freak out.”

Blaine felt himself start to smile, but then he noticed Kurt's face falling, looking at something down the corridor behind Blaine. He felt a cold shudder run down his spine and he tried to school his expression into a neutral mask before he turned around.

His instinct had been right, it was Sebastian walking up to them. Of course, his instinct also told him turn around and run away. But before he was even sure his legs would obey him, Sebastian was standing in front of him. There were hands on his shoulders, and Sebastian was looking down at him with a face filled with remorse.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine stared at him, not sure if this was an especially bad joke. “What?”

“I'm so sorry,” Sebastian said, ignoring what Blaine had said, and Kurt's presence altogether. “I'm sorry, you have to believe me, I _never_ meant to hurt you. I don't know what came over me, I was just so... angry. But I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm so glad that you're okay, and I'm _so_ sorry...”

“Look at me, Sebastian.” Blaine was surprised himself that he even managed to find his voice, but amazingly enough, it didn't waiver. “I'm not okay. Can you honestly not see how not okay I am?”

“But... I mean... I know it's not okay,” Sebastian said. He looked helpless now, as if he was honestly surprised that Blaine hadn't just accepted his apology. “I was just... scared, that you'd be.... that you almost...”

“That you almost killed me?” Blaine asked. “Yes, we can only hope that _you_ will ever manage to get over that.”

There was a gasp behind him, and he turned around to see Kurt stare at him open-mouthed. Only then did Sebastian even seem to notice his presence.

“Do you mind? Don't you have any pots to clean, or whatever you do?” he asked harshly. “My husband and I are talking, your presence isn't needed. Go away.”

There was a dangerous glint in Kurt's eyes, and Blaine really didn't want him to get into a fight with Sebastian, not now.

“He's staying,” he said to Sebastian. His voice was stricter than he would have expected. “I don't really feel like being alone with you right now.”

In the corner of his eye, he could see Kurt tense. Sebastian, meanwhile, looked almost heartbroken. To Blaine, he looked once more like a spoiled child. Just seeing him like this, it would be ridiculous to be threatened by someone so immature. But this wasn't everything there was to him, and Blaine had the bruises to prove it. The instinct to run away was still there, but there was also anger, and the will to stand up for himself. And Kurt was right with him. Somehow, that made him feel safer, and braver as well.

“That's not fair, Blaine,” Sebastian said. “We need to talk about how to fix this.”

“You tried to kill me, Sebastian. That's not something you can just fix,” Blaine said. “There is nothing to be said between us. There's nothing you could say that I want to hear.”

“But I'm sorry,” Sebastian said.

Blaine sighed. “I don't care, Sebastian. You can't take back what you did.”

“Blaine, please let's talk about this. Just... please, tell me I didn't destroy everything. I need to know that there's at least a chance to move on from this.”

Blaine sighed, shaking his head. “You're not listening,” he said.

“There must be something you feel for me,” Sebastian said. He was looking at him pleading now, and Blaine was just _so_ tired.

“I feel sorry for you,” he said eventually. “That's the best I can give you.”

Sebastian frowned, as if he was trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not. Eventually, he nodded. “I can deal with that,” he said. “It's better than having you scared of me.”

Blaine shook his head. “You almost killed me,” he repeated. “ _Yesterday_. How could I not be scared of you?”

“Can you... please, just have dinner with me? And then we talk about everything, and we find a way to figure things out?”

Blaine hesitated, not because he was actually thinking about it, but because he was wondering if he should follow his instincts and anger...

“I won't,” he said eventually, “I think I'll stay at the library. I feel safer there. And I think I'll bolt the door.”

He didn't even look at Sebastian’s face, just turned around and walked away. Kurt followed him, but Sebastian was rooted to the spot, maybe in shock. Blaine didn't care. He just kept walking until he reached the library door. Inside, he took a cursory look to confirm that nobody else was there. As he turned back, Kurt was watching him with an amazed expression.

“What?” Blaine asked.

Kurt looked at him for a while, as if he was pondering on whether to speak. But eventually, he just shook his head. “Just you,” he said. “That was... I'm proud of you. I really am.”

“I didn't do anything,” Blaine said, lowering his gaze to hide how touched he felt by the sentiment. “And even the things I said... I could only do that because I knew you were there, and that you wouldn't let anything happen to me.”

But Kurt just smiled at him. “You're stronger than you think,” he said. “You'll see it one day. Until then, you'll just have to believe me when I say it.”

Blaine laughed, although he felt a bit insecure. “I'll try to,” he said. “Do you think it was alright, though? What I said? It won't be too cruel?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Too cruel?” he asked. “Blaine... look at yourself. Look at what he did. You're much kinder than he deserves.”

Blaine bit his lip but then he nodded. “I think so, too.”

Kurt hesitated for a moment, but then he stepped forward and pulled Blaine into a hug.

“It's going to be alright,” he said.

“I... I hope so,” Blaine said. “I just... I want it to be over. But I'm scared. I'm really scared, Kurt.”

Kurt looked at him, compassion shining from his eyes. “I know. But I promise it's going to be alright. You have to be strong for just a little bit longer. Then it's going to be fine. Well be free, and we'll be together. And then this place and Sebastian will just seem like a far away nightmare.”

“I hope so,” Blaine said, hiding his face against Kurt's shoulder. “I really hope so.”

* * *

Today had been exhausting for Sebastian, but almost every day had been since his father had left for the capital. There was too much fighting with his advisers, he had to try too hard to get even a little bit of respect... but that wasn't it, not today. All he could think of was Blaine.

Of course, Blaine had been afraid of him, after what he had done. How could it have been any different?

Sebastian turned around in his bed, too large now that he was alone in it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage to fall asleep. He just wanted to stop thinking and get some rest, but he couldn't escape his thoughts, or the guilt.

He had almost killed Blaine. And for what? A letter? A fit of rage? He had been angry and jealous, and had taken it out on Blaine.

Sebastian felt his throat sting. How stupid he'd been...

He had wanted Blaine to be his completely. That's what he was supposed to be, the one person who was Sebastian's. But it hadn't worked out, for whatever reason. Could Sebastian really blame him for turning to his family, or that servant boy for comfort? Maybe he would have done the same thing if their positions had been reversed.

In a way, he had done that, turning to his affairs as soon as things had gone wrong between them. But he had expected more from Blaine.

Maybe in a way he was like his father. How often had Lord Smythe reminded him who was in charge of his and his siblings' lives? His father had threatened more than once to kill him if he didn't behave. And now? Now he had done the same to Blaine, almost killed him for not being what Sebastian wanted him to be.

Maybe his father would be proud of him after all?

But no, he was still too impulsive, and hurting Blaine hurt the alliance to Dalton. His father was more careful, he always knew what to do. Sebastian never knew what to do, that was the problem. He especially never knew what to do to please his father. Maybe it wasn't possible.

Sebastian eyes watered, making him blink.

What if Blaine had been right? What if everything Sebastian did was trying to please somebody who would never be satisfied... who would never love him?

Ridiculous, he was _not_ some child who wanted to be loved. He was a grown man and above such childish wishes. He wanted his father's respect, yes, and the position he deserved. But there was nothing wrong with it. What son didn't want that?

What if that wasn't possible, though?

What was he doing with his life?

He had tried to be the good son, and it hadn't worked out. He had tried to live for the moment, enjoy whatever he could with affair after affair, and it hadn't fulfilled him either. He had tried living for one person, looking for happiness in marriage, and that hadn't worked out either.

Nothing had worked, and nothing had made him happy. When the obedience didn't work, he had tried the affairs, then marriage... when marriage hadn't worked he had gotten back to affairs... and now he had tried obedience again, and still he wasn't happy.

Sebastian coughed, and blinked against the burning in his eyes.

He had been happy, for a short while... With Blaine, at least at first. It hadn't been perfect, sure, but it had been good. If he could have managed to be content with that... and if Blaine had put in more effort... it could have been good. Of all the things he tried, it was the closest thing to working he had ever managed.

Maybe that was the answer, then. He could stop trying to please his father, and stop looking for fulfillment in meaningless affairs. If he focused on his marriage, made that a priority... maybe then he could be happy.

He thought back to last night, that haunting image of Blaine, leaning half dead against that shelf... And of earlier, how cold Blaine had been. No, not cold... detached. As if he shielded himself from all emotions for Sebastian or maybe as if he actually didn't feel any.

Sebastian had destroyed it. The one thing that had any chance of bringing him happiness, and he had destroyed it.

What an idiot he was.

If he had one wish... then he'd take it back. Or maybe he'd go back even further, never strike up that affair, and try to find fulfillment in his marriage. If he could turn back time...

But he couldn't. The things that happened, the things he'd done... He couldn't take it back. They could only move forward, once he figured out how to do it. There had to be a way. They were married, after all. That was supposed to be forever.

But really, he could tell himself that into eternity, but it wouldn't change anything. He had messed up _so bad_ , how could he ever repair this? How could he make Blaine forgive him for what he'd done? How could he make it clear that he had just lost his mind for a moment, that it would never happen again? How could he make Blaine trust him again?

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Trust couldn't be fixed just like that. It built over time, and once destroyed, it couldn't just be repaired like this.

But it _could_ be repaired. Somehow, with time and devotion, it could be saved. He had to do his best and prove to Blaine that he was safe, that Sebastian would never hurt him again. That was the first step, the most important one. And it was essential that he'd be patient for this. Blaine needed time, of course he did. Sebastian could give him time, as much as he needed. He would be at his best behavior, and eventually, Blaine would learn to trust him again. Then they could rebuild their marriage. He would focus more on Blaine, and his father and Hunter could go to hell. Also, that northern servant had to go back home. Sebastian felt his blood boil as he remembered their confrontation earlier, how Blaine had been so cold and brash to him, how that boy had watched them, brimming with insolence.. They would never manage to reconcile while that kitchen rat was staying here, dripping poison into Blaine's ear...

But they could get past this. It may have taken him too long to realize it, but Sebastian knew now what was important, and he was willing to fight for it. Sooner or later, Blaine would realize it, too. And really, what else was he going to do? It wasn't exactly as if there was much here for Blaine.

Just time. They just needed time, and patience.

Sebastian didn't actually believe it, but what else could he do than hold on to an illusion, hoping it would come true eventually?

His throat was scratching again, and he started coughing again. Was he getting sick? But it didn't feel like a cold, more like there was something irritating his throat...

With a frown, Sebastian inhaled, testing the air. Something was wrong... This didn't smell right... and it seemed to come from the window.

Sebastian felt his heart stop. In a second he was on his feet, pulling open the curtains to reveal the window behind them. Over the courtyard, he could see the castle's opposite wing, and the bright flickering from one of the windows.

Fire!

Sebastian wasn't sure if he had ever run as fast as he did in that moment. He was shouting for help, hoping he could manage to wake enough people, but as he entered the corridor, he noticed that he wasn't the only one who had noticed the fire. There were people running, shouting at each other. It seemed like horrible chaos, but as Sebastian stood in the middle of it, he started to see the structure. The people around him seemed to know exactly what to do, which was a relief, since Sebastian had no idea what he was supposed to do. He just followed to where people went, and to his horror, he realized they were going to the library.

He stopped so suddenly that he almost stumbled. Blaine was in the library and it could be on fire. The fear he had felt before seemed like nothing compared to the terror he felt now. He had to get to Blaine, make sure he was safe. But the chaos around him was too much, now he could start to feel the heat from the fire, the smoke was scratching his throat so that breathing itself started to hurt...

“Mylord, what are you doing?”

He turned to find one of the knights holding his arm. “Blaine... have you seen him?” Sebastian asked.

The knight looked at him as if he was insane. “Stay back, Mylord, it's not safe here for you,” he said. “Come with me.”

Sebastian tried to struggle, but he wasn't strong enough, especially with the smoke burning his eyes and lungs. Every step took him further from where he was, and he couldn’t even tell yet where the fire was coming from. All he could think of was that Blaine could be in there. Was it the library itself that had started burning? Had Blaine woken up, and realized the danger? And if so, had he managed to get out safely?

But all he could do was watch in terror as the servants worked to extinguish the fire.

Eventually, it started to die and the chaos began to fade. Sebastian just stared, he couldn't even bring himself to move until the knight who had taken him away from danger before walked up to him.

“It's under control now, Mylord. It's fine.”

Sebastian looked to the knight, knowing that he had to look positively wild. “What was it? What burned?” he asked.

“The library, Mylord. It's completely burnt out,” the knight said. “As is the storage beside it. But we could stop it before anything else caught fire. That northern boy noticed it quickly and sounded the alarm.”

Sebastian could hardly understand the words. The library was gone. And Blaine...

Oh god...

Slowly, he turned around. The northern boy was standing there, apart from the other servants, with soot on his face, and he just stared at Sebastian, his eyes colder than anything he'd ever seen.

Sebastian stepped towards him, stumbled on his weak knees, but managed to catch himself.

“Blaine...” he managed. “Was he...? Where was he, was he with you? Where is he?”

The boy stared at him, then just shook his head.

“What does that mean?!” Sebastian yelled.

The boy didn't answer, just turned around and started to walk down the corridor.

“Answer me!” Sebastian shouted.

The boy turned his head. “This is on you,” he said, then he turned back again and walked away.

Now, Sebastian's knees really couldn't carry him anymore. He crumbled to the ground, weak and boneless. It didn't matter who saw him, or heard his frantic hushed whispering of “No...” and “Blaine!”

But it was too late now. It was over.

* * *

Kurt had spent the night lying on his mattress in the servants' quarters, looking up at the ceiling and waiting for the sun to rise. He felt exhausted, even as anxiety was running through his veins like fire. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't relax, all he could focus on was that he needed to get away from his place.

Not long, it was almost over now.

Almost everybody had kept their distance from him after the fire. Only Kitty had even dared to speak to him, and all she managed to say was how sorry she was.

As the darkness started to fade into a muddy gray, he got up and packed all his things up into a bundle. Schooling his expression into a neutral mask, he left the quarters, and started to walk through the castle. He wasn't even sure where to start – after the fire, the castle wasn’t waking as it usually would. His first stop was to Sebastian's and Blaine's room, but it was empty. It took him some time to igure it out, but eventually, he made his way to the place he still hoped to avoid.

In the whole library, there wasn't one book left, only ashes. Kurt felt cold as he looked around. It was the perfect picture of hopelessness. The colored window was gone, broken or exploded under the heat. But where it had been, on the stone window sill, he found Sebastian, sitting and staring at something in his hand.

Kurt waited to be noticed, but there was no reaction, so he approached further.

“Mylord?”

There was a long moment of silence, and then... “Go away.”

Looking at Sebastian, Kurt could almost feel sorry for him. But as soon as that impulse became too strong he thought of Blaine, the bruises on his throat, and how scared and desperate he had been... all because of this coward sitting right in front of him. No, he would not feel pity for this man.

“I need to speak to you,” Kurt said.

At this, Sebastian looked up and saw him. Several emotions seemed to war on his face, but eventually, disdain won out.

“It's you,” he muttered, maybe talking to himself.

Kurt nodded, although he almost had to bite his tongue to keep up the mask of a subservience. “Yes. I wanted to state my condolences, Mylord.”

Sebastian looked as if he was about to cry any moment, before looked back into his hands. For a while, he was silent, but then he spoke.

“I can't believe he's gone. Just like that... just...”

“My condolences,” Kurt repeated.

Sebastian held the thing he'd been fiddling with up, and Kurt recognized that it was a ring, blackened by smoke.

“Is that...?”

“His ring,” Sebastian said softly. “It was all they could find. Coal, and bones, and ashes... and his ring... All that is left...”

Kurt gulped and had to look to the round to not betray his own emotions. He clenched his eyes shut, summoned up the memory of how Blaine had told him they would run away together – calm, and certain... Of how they had kissed when Kurt had taken his leave for the servant quarters last night...

What he really wanted was to go home. But first he'd have to put this encounter behind him.

Sebastian shook his head, and when he looked up, Kurt had the impression that he was actually being seen now.

“What do you want from me then?” Sebastian asked. “Or did you just want to...” He hesitated, looking around in the ruins of the library. “Did you want to pay your respect?”

Kurt clenched his fists, letting his finger nails bite into the skin of his palm. “I want to go home,” he said. “I can't stay here in this place... There's nothing here for me now.”

Sebastian stared at him, then he looked back to the ring in his hand. “You loved him,” he said.

Kurt bit his lip, unsure what to say. Eventually, he decided on the truth. “Yes.”

There was another moment of silence, before Sebastian spoke again. “And... did he... did Blaine...” He stopped then and shook his head. “Never mind. I don't want to know. You're right, there's nothing here for you. Leave, then. You don't belong here anyway.”

“Neither did he,” Kurt said. His voice was soft, and to his own surprise void of judgment. It was a fact, nothing more or less. It shouldn't be so painful, but Sebastian looked as if he'd been struck.

“Why are you still here then?” Sebastian asked.

“I want his horse,” Kurt said.

“Why the hell would you want that?”

“It's a long journey back home, and I need a horse. If I could have his... then I would at least have something to remember him by. And... she doesn't belong here, either.”

Sebastian was still hesitating, but then he shrugged. “What does it matter now anyway?” he asked. “I don't want to see the thing again... Take it. Take it, and get out of my sight.”

Kurt hesitated, wondering what he should say. Eventually, he just nodded and started to walk away.

“It wasn't my fault.”

Surprised, Kurt turned around. Sebastian was looking up, actually looking at him, and there was real distress in his face.

“What happened to him... it... it wasn't my fault. He could have been happy, it could have worked... but it didn't. It... it wasn't my fault.”

Kurt stared at him, this pathetic, broken, selfish... _child_. All he wanted was absolution, in some form. And now, Kurt had no problem withholding pity. He closed his eyes before he looked right into Sebastian's eyes, a gesture of defiance especially from a servant towards a lord.

“But it is,” he said.

Sebastian stared at him, as if he'd been struck again. But Kurt didn't care. With a nod that could barely be interpreted as a bow with the best intentions, he turned around and walked away. Behind him, he could hear Sebastian sobbing, but it didn't matter. Nothing in this place mattered anymore.

He was leaving this godforsaken castle, he would leave the south and go back home. The thought pulsated through him, with every step he took that brought him closer to the stables. The thought of home, and of Blaine.

He found Caverra where she'd been before, in the last box at the stable. Nobody even batted an eye as he saddled her and led her out of the stable. He couldn't imagine Sebastian had informed anybody that he was allowed to leave with her, but nobody tried to stop him.

It was a gray day, although it didn't smell like rain was to come. It fit to the castle he left behind. Kurt needed a moment to figure out where he was and where he needed to go, but then he started to ride. He had only taken the path once, and Blaine had brought them there back then. It felt like an eternity ago, almost like it was from another life. In a way, it was. At least Kurt had to focus on finding the right way instead of losing himself in his thoughts. He was anxious, tired, and his mind was a mess.

Home... And Blaine...

Kurt couldn't have said how long he'd been riding, although he knew it couldn't have been much more than an hour. It seemed so much longer than it had when Blaine had brought him here. But eventually, he could see the lake close, and the tower standing at the shore. He thought back on when he'd been here with Blaine. It had seemed a peaceful place back then, and it seemed like a good place to start anew from.

When he arrived at the tower, he dismounted and tied the horse's reins to a tree. Even as he tied the knot, he could hear something behind him.

Kurt closed his eyes, the drumming of his heart beat almost drowning out the sound of footsteps from the stone staircase within the tower, and then the grass on the ground before it. He could feel his eyes welling up, but this time he didn't force them away. Slowly, he turned around, to find himself face to face with Blaine.

There was just a moment when they looked at each other, and then Blaine was rushing into his arms, holding him in his embrace, there and warm and _so alive_...

He could hear Blaine's voice, laughing from relief, saying his name and other things, but... he couldn't stand it anymore. He pressed his face against Blaine's shoulder and just clung to him, as the tears started to flow.

Blaine stepped back, framing Kurt's face with his hands so they could look at each other.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay? What happened? Did something go wrong?”

Kurt shook his head, trying to collect himself enough to answer. “Everything went perfectly,” he said. “It all burned. They found the bones, the ring... you're dead.” He tried not to think back on the hours they had spent yesterday, finding the ossuary, breaking in and actually collecting bones, hoping that they would be enough for people to believe that Blaine had died in the fire... or how tense he had been all day, hoping that everything was going to work out but trying to seem calm for Blaine's benefit... and how nervous he had been ever since they had parted ways last night until now, that he had Blaine back with him.

“It worked. You're officially dead,” Kurt said. “No... you're free. _We_ are free.”

“But...” Blaine hesitated, then stroked a thumb over Kurt's cheek catching the tears. “You're not okay,” he said.

Kurt bit his lip, but even so he smiled under the tears. “I am,” he said, “it's just... I spent too much time thinking about you being dead. And I knew it wasn't true, but... I don't ever want to think about that again.”

Blaine looked at him with eyes full of warmth and compassion. “I'm so sorry... What can I do?”

“You could kiss me,” Kurt suggested.

Blaine nodded slowly. “I could do that,” he said softly. But instead of just going for it, he leaned forward so their foreheads touched for a moment, before he lifted up Kurt's face a bit more, and then finally put their lips together, so fleeting that Kurt hardly felt it. But Blaine kissed him again, and again, dozens of butterfly kisses. And then they got slower, deeper, and Kurt was gone.

“I'm here,” Blaine breathed against his lips between kisses. “I'm not leaving you, not ever again. I'm here, and I'm alive, and I'm... I'm with you, Kurt. Don't be upset, it's alright now. Like you said.”

Kurt kissed back, holding Blaine as close as he could. Eventually, he pulled back. He was still upset, but he already felt better, holding Blaine, actually feeling that it was all a ruse, that he was _alive_. and safe.

As hard as the last twelve hours had been, they had made it through, and now they were free of that place, that family... and free to be together.

“Come on,” Kurt said softly. “I'll take you home.”

Blaine frowned. “You know I can't go back to Dalton...”

Kurt smiled at him. “No, Blaine. I'll take you home to the north.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, second to last chapter. I hope the last chapter won't take as long as this one did, but life has been quite busy lately. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

“Well, things are better than expected,” Lord Smythe said. “The negotiations are going quite well.”

Earl Anderson scowled. “They're taking too long,” he said.

Lord Smythe sighed. During the last few days, he had gotten used to the fact that Earl Anderson wasn’t the most pleasant company, especially for  breaks like the one they were having right now . But that was fine, at least during the negotiations the earl proved himself to be a valuable ally.

“I believe it won't take too long now,” Lord Smythe said. “Once we're agreed, the troop movement can begin. The more hidden we are in enforcing Dalton against the north, the better. Once the king raises the taxes, the north will attack, believing you to be completely unprepared. And then... we will finally put them in their place.”

“I'm aware of our plans,” the earl said. “I just wish things would move along more quickly.”

“It's what happens when we get together... all those little games colliding... You're not too used to it in Dalton, but it's more common down here in the south.”

“I'm aware of that as well,” the earl said. He then frowned. “Isn't that one of yours?”

Lord Smythe looked up to find one of the knights walking up to  the m, wearing the Smythe family crest. But  t his particular knight had stayed back at the castle to serve as an adviser for Sebastian. To have him here...

“Mylords,” the knight said, bowing to the both of them.

“What is it, Sir Thompson?”Lord Smythe asked. The man's face alone was enough to tell him that the news he was about to receive were anything but good.

“Mylord... there was an accident at the castle,” Sir Thompson said, glancing nervously at Earl Anderson.

Lord Smythe cursed internally. Something about Anderson's son, then.  He just wondered how  Sebastian  had messed up  now. “What kind of accident?”

“A fire, Mylord,” the knight said. “The library burnt out.”

And the library had become Blaine Anderson's refuge. “Casualties?” Lord Smythe asked, praying that he was wrong about the answer.

“One, Mylord,” the knight said. He now turned to Earl Anderson. “I'm so sorry, Mylord, but... your son, he died in the fire.”

Lord Smy th e closed his eyes, forcing himself to  stay calm. “Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“I'm afraid so, Mylord.”

Lord Smythe looked to his side, wondering how the earl would take the news. But there was no reaction. Earl Anderson's face was completely blank.

“Keep talking,” Lord Smythe said to the knight. “I want to hear everything you know.”

Even as the man talked, Lord Smythe kept  an eye on his ally. He wasn't quite sure whether the earl actually listened. But Lord Smythe knew one thing. Blaine Anderson's death couldn't have come at a more unfortunate time. They needed to position their troops within the Dalton borders soon, before the northerners would be provoked enough to attack. Now more than ever the alliance had to stay strong.

Although... it didn't have to  _look_ strong.

The northerners would expect the alliance to be weakened. If that appearance was upheld, while in secret they even strengthened the bond... then this could even be an advantage. They needed to strike another match. Quickly, Lord Smythe thought about their respective families. He had a granddaughter that would be of an appropriate age for Cooper Anderson's oldest son. They could strike an engagement now, although it would take a few years of waiting until they were old enough for marriage. That too could work in their favor. They'd keep the engagement secret, let the north believe that the relationship between Dalton and the south had cooled off. And then, they'd strike right out of the sun.

It could work, if only he could convince the earl of it. But right now, it was impossible to say whether that would be successful. For a second, he allowed himself to wonder how he'd react, if it had been one of his children who had died in a fire. Even if it was a child that had disappointed him... Sebastian, maybe...

Of course, nobody would dare to lay a hand on a member of the Smythe family. There was too much respect for the name. Now the Anderson family was respected as well, but the earl hadn't bothered to use that respect in support of his son.

When the knight had finished his tale, Lord Smythe looked up to his ally, still waiting for a reaction. But still, the earl seemed to be in shock. All color had drained from his face.

This wouldn't do. Lord Smythe needed to regain the control over this situation, as well as over the alliance.

“My sincerest condolences for your loss, my friend,” he said, making a show of putting his hand onto the earl's shoulder in a gesture of support. “This must have come as a shock to you.”

“Thank you,” the earl said almost absent-mindedly. “Of course, it's a shock. Disasters like that...” He shook his head. “What will I tell Cooper?”

Lord Smythe frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My older son,” the earl said, “I promised him that I would make sure his brother would be treated right. I told you about the rumors the north is spreading in Dalton, and how Cooper is reacting to them. What do you think they'll make of the boy dying?”

“Very convenient, isn't it?” Lord Smythe asked.

The earl frowned looking at him. “What do you mean?” he asked. He did sound more... present now. Maybe he was relieved that he could find an issue to concern himself with, that could help him to avoid dealing with the news of his son's death.

Lord Smythe hadn't even known what he meant when he'd said the words, but suddenly it all made sense. “Your son's death is exactly what the north needs. Think about it, they've been spreading those rumors to shake Dalton's connection to the south. What better way to sever that connection than killing your son, the very thing that binds our families together? And just wait and see, I'm certain that they'll try to blame my family for this.”

“It _is_ convenient for the north,” the earl said  slowly.

“And there's a northerner at my castle as we speak,” Lord Smythe kept spinning the tale. “That servant you sent up north. Of course, this is only speculation so far, but can you say for sure that servant boy was really trustworthy? Or could he have had a hand in your son's death?”

The earl blinked at him slowly. It was obvious that the news had shocked him too much. There would be no firm decision coming from him any time soon. But that was alright. Lord Smythe would find a way to deal with this.

The earl would need to send a message to Dalton about Blaine's death – hopefully before the northerners found out and spread the word. They'd have to strike up the plans for another engagement. Shocked as the earl seemed at the moment, Lord Smythe was sure he'd have the contract written down before the other man even regained his wits.

And Sebastian...

For a moment, Lord Smythe wondered just how his son would take this development. He  hadn't been a model spouse, but he had seemed to show quite the liking for his northern boy. Just to think how this could have worked out, if Sebastian had been able to wield the least bit of self-control...

But Lord Smythe hadn't risen to the position he was in now by letting himself be weighed down by what-ifs. And Blaine Anderson as the victim of a northern plot was much more useful to him than Blaine Anderson, the abused  spouse of  Sebastian Smythe.

He would send Hunter back home. Sebastian was probably in no state to deal with his  responsibilities. H is brother could take that off his shoulders – and make sure that northern servant was thrown into prison. They employed good people who'd get a confession of murder and conspiracy out of the boy in no time.

Lord Smythe nodded. He could turn this around. He would not let his plans be foiled, not now when they were so close to fruition.

“Sir Thompson, excuse us at the meeting. The earl and I need to discuss this. Also, find Hunter and send him to my rooms,” he said, nodded to the knight, then took the earl's arm and started to lead him back inside.

“I think I need to lie down,” the earl said. As shaky as he looked, his voice remained calm and strong.

“I understand,” Lord Smythe said. “But right now, there's no time for that. A drink will have to do. And then, you and I have a lot of work to do, if we want to save this situation.”

* * *

By the time Cooper's eyes reached the end of the page, he could hardly see through the tears he was holding in. His father's signature was nothing but an inky smudge to him. Even though he still held the paper of the letter in his hands, he could hardly feel it.

His brother was dead.

The rumors had been flying wild a long time before this, but those had been northern rumors. Cooper had prayed they were wrong, although deep inside he had known the truth.  He had first heard about it from the Queen in the  N orth  herself . She had called him for a secret meeting – as he had thought in another attempt to secure his loyalty. Instead, she had told him about the fire, had called it an accident – probably. In a second of clarity, Cooper realized that the rumors had only started after that meeting.

What a useless train of thought.

What a useless letter.

Not a trace of emotion was there in his father's writing. It was just a collection of facts. There'd been a fire, Blaine had died in it, and maybe it was the fault of a northern conspiracy. And then there was something about a new marriage pact between Cooper's  old est  son and one of Smythe's granddaughter, but at that point he hadn't been able to  pay much attention to what he was reading .

He still couldn't understand what had happened as he p u t the letter to the table. No, that wasn't true. He did understand one thing perfectly.

The southerners had killed his brother. Maybe it had been an accident, but he had trouble believing  i t when they tried to put the blame on the north. Either way, his brother was dead because of the southerners, and his father was still too blind, or too invested in that godforsaken alliance to do something about it.

There was a hand on his, a soft squeeze of reassurance and compassion. He looked up at the girl sitting beside him.

The last time he had seen her, she had still been the young Lady Fabray. Now, he was in the presence of the northern crown princess Quinn Sylvester. For now, he was the only lord affiliated with the south who even knew the identity of the Queen's adopted daughter – and really, the days of his affiliation with the south were  number ed.

He wasn't sure just how the Queen had known that his father's letter would arrive today.  B ut then, she seemed to have spies everywhere, so he really shouldn't be surprised.  The Queen had sent a delegation, consisting of the crown princess, her daughter, and a few bodyguards, and that delegation just so happened to arrive shortly before his father's letter had. It reeked of northern manipuation, but  Cooper  had to admit that Quinn's presence was exactly the calming influence he needed right now.

“I'm very sorry for your loss,” Quinn said, her voice gentle. “Your brother... he was very kind to me.”

Cooper hardly managed to look up. “Thank you, princess,” he said. “I'm sorry for your loss as well. And the little  l ady's, too.”

This was also something he would need to get used to. He looked at Quinn and the little  girl in her lap. Princess Beth of the north was a tiny, lovely thing, who clearly resembled her mother a whole lot,  and happily played with a rag doll . It wasn't possible to  draw any conclusions onto who her father was, and maybe this was a good thing.

If Dalton wanted to ally with the north, there needed to be a connection. A broken-off engagement was shaky grounds for that. A child, even conceived before marriage, would make a much better  basis . That would be the new narrative that Dalton would follow – if they allied with the north.

The south murdered his brother.

There wasn't even a question.

Th is little girl  in Quinn 's lap  probably had no  closer connection to  h is b r other than any peasant  child he'd  find i n the streets. But if anybody asked him – he'd swear to hell that little Beth was his niece, and the marriage of her parents had only been prevented by a southern intrigue.

It wasn't the truth, but it would show more justice to Blaine than whatever narrative the south would invent.

T he southerners  and the alliance with them  were in the past. He would not snivel after the people who killed his brother. Cooper Anderson would stop following his father, he would stop list e ning to his brother ' s killers, he would do what was right by D a lton, and right by  Blaine 's memory. If that meant accepting this little girl as his niece... well, there were  wo rse sacrifices.

“I've made a decision, princess – about Dalton's stance in this conflict,” Cooper said, looking up at Quinn.

She was surprised, and that touched something inside Cooper. He knew, Queen Sue wouldn't have been distracted by anything from her goal.  B ut he could believe that Quinn was actually focusing on the loss of Blaine, as a person who had been kind to her, who had cared about her...

The Q ueen was a genius, sending Quinn here.

“I will not ally with the people who murdered my brother,” Cooper continued. “I may not be completely on board with whatever Lady Sylvester... I mean Her Grace plans to do. But I know that if things had gone as they should have, you would have been my sister by law, little Beth would officially be my niece, and my brother would still be alive. My father clearly lost his sense in politics. I've already talked to the knights, and they put their faith in me. Well, here's my decision. I will take the lead of Dalton. And I will ally with the north, as Dalton is supposed to. So I will support your adopted mother, for her claim and yours – and my niece Beth's. This is what Dalton will do.”

Quinn stared at him, clearly moved. She took his hand, and for a while Cooper wondered what she would say.

“Lord Cooper, I _need_ you to know... Beth is not your niece.  Your brother was very kind to me, but we never lay together. It's just the story Queen Sue would like to use to-”

“I know,” Cooper said. “but I believe that is the best way to honor my brother.” He wouldn't tell her how much it meant to him, that she valued the truth over politics. He would have loved to have this girl as his sister by law.

“I think so, too,” Quinn said. “And I will state it in public, but... he was your brother. I couldn't lie to you about your brother's blood...”

“I understand,” Cooper said. “Thank you, Quinn. Sister.”

“Thank _you_ , Cooper.”

For a moment, they both hesitated, just accepting the silen c e to honor Blaine, while little Beth played with her  doll .

“The Queen needs to discuss a few things with you,” Quinn said eventually.

“I'm sure she does,” Cooper said. “And I'm sure she gave you all the information so you can lead the primary negotiations.”

“You assume correctly,” Quinn said.

“So let's negotiate,” Cooper said. “We need to keep it secret for now. According to the letter, my father is on his way back. I will not endanger him. The south can't know until he's safe. But the second he' within Dalton's borders? Then we'll fly the colors of the Queen in the North.”

* * *

Dusk had already started falling, when the roofs of Lima village started to come into view. Kurt felt relief washing through him at the sight. They had been traveling for so long, he had almost lost confidence that they'd ever arrive. But here they were, the familiar roofs, the same old road...

“This is it,” he said softly into Blaine's ear.

Blaine flinched, and only then did Kurt notice that the young lord must have fallen asleep, sitting right in front of him. He hadn't even noticed before... But of course, Blaine was just as exhausted as he himself had been.

“We're here,” Kurt said. “Lima... in all its glory.”

It had been years since he had been here. Over Dalton and his travel to the south, he had almost forgotten what it looked like. But now he had Blaine with him, to show him the place they'd find refuge at...

Lima had never seemed smaller to him.

He felt nervous, suddenly. Was this really all that he could offer Blaine? A tiny village in the middle of nowhere?

He wished he could see Blaine's face, to get some idea on what he was thinking, how he was reacting to it...

“So... where are we going?” Blaine asked.. His voice didn't betray any thought either, but that could be from exhaustion.

“It's around the edge of the village,” Kurt said. “We'll be there soon.”

Blaine nodded, but didn't give further reply.

Eventually, they arrived at his father's grounds. It was one of the bigger houses in Lima, with a stone house for the family, a small stable, and this father's smithy in a safe distance from the house. It, too, looked so much smaller than Kurt remembered. He wondered if he could possibly get used to living here again – and if Blaine ever could.

“This is it,” Kurt said softly.

As they unsaddled, he watched Blaine's face as he took in everything, looking for disappointment. But there was none, just curiosity. With a smile, Kurt led both Blaine and the horse inside the stable, where there family mare was already standing. They wer e just tying the horse up, when Kurt heard the noise of somebody approaching. Beside him, Blaine tensed, and Kurt found himself staring at the stable door.

“Who the hell is this?” a man asked in a gruff voice.

Kurt stepped forward, but he couldn't manage  to utter a single word.  I t was his father, standing n the doorway. If  ever ything in Lima had see med less than he remembered , that didn't apply to Burt Hummel.  H e was just the way Kurt remembered him,  strong and sturdy like the oak trees outside.

The gruffness fell off the moment his father realized just who was standing there.

“Father,” Kurt finally managed to say.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, and then – Kurt couldn't have said who had moved first,  but they were hugging. For a moment, Kurt allowed himself to let go all concerns, all plans and worries. This was coming home, and everything would be fine now.

They both stepped back after a moment, and Kurt could see that his father was trying not to let any sentimentality show.

“You're back home,” his father said. “We were worried about you. There has been a lot of talk... but you made it. You made it back home.”

“I did,” Kurt said. “And I'm staying.”

“Good,” Burt said gruffly, nodding at him. He then looked behind Kurt, his eyes falling on Blaine who had stayed where he was, holding Caverra's reins. “And you found yourself a southern boy.”

Kurt turned, already thinking about how he was going to explain the situation... but one look at Blaine's face stopped him.

He looked as if he'd been struck.  For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but then, clearly upset, he averted his face,  turn ing to Caverra. Southern boy... After everything that had happened down south and being treated as the northerner, would it now just be reversed? But before he could get dragged down by those thoughts, Kurt stepped forward, took his hand into his, and pulled him forward.

“No,” he said to his father, “not a southern boy. Father... this is Blaine.”

His father's eyes widened, and he looked Blaine over in a completely different way. “Anderson?” he asked for clarification. “From Dalton?”

Kurt nodded. “That's him,” he said.

“You're supposed to be dead,” his father said, his voice a dead pan. “And yet you're here... Wait. You’re running, aren't you?”

Kurt's hand clasped around Blaine on instinct, trying to protect him. But it didn't seem necessary, as it was Blaine who spoke first.

“I had to,” he said.

There was something in the way his father looked at them that Kurt couldn't quite read.

“Of course you had to,” he said. “They would have killed you.”

“How do you know that?” Kurt asked perplexed. This was Lima, after all. How could his father have found out about any of this?

“I think you should come inside,” his father said. “There's a lot we have to discuss.”

With that, he turned around and walked away from them.

Kurt looked to Blaine, who had sunk into himself  now that there was nobody to show a mask to .

“So... how did that go?” Blaine asked, not even trying to hide his insecurity. “That was... good, right? Not bad?”

“I think it's going to be okay,” Kurt said. He hesitated, but then he decided that there was no point in being careful. Blaine needed him to at least seem to be in control. So he stepped closer, took Blaine's hands, and looked straight into his eyes.

“I promise, it will be okay,” he said. “I know this is scary, but you will get used to it, and we're going to be alright here. You don't have to worry about my family, and you don't have to be nervous. I'm here, and we can do this. You and me, okay?”

Blaine looked up at him, clearly still hesistant. But then he nodded.

“Okay. Let's do this.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at last. I swear, I didn't expect it to take this long until the final chapter is written. This comes down to two reasons. One, there have been some carreer developments that left me with little time and less energy for writing, and two, this chapter was really hard to write.  
> But here it is, the final chapter, to bring an end to his story that was once supposed to have only seven chapters. Well, slight miscalculation.  
> It's a bit weird to finish this one, seeing how I've been writing it for so long, and I feel I should say more... but I wouldn't know what to say.
> 
> So, to make it short, I hope you enjoy the final chapter of this story, and thank you guys very much for reading!

* * *

When Kurt had lived in Lima, he couldn't leave soon enough. Everything had seemed so oppressive, so small and boring. He had dreamed of finding a better place for a long time, although something had always held him back. But then, things had deteriorated, with that ridiculous crush on Finn he'd had, and things hadn't gotten better when his father had married Finn's mother... They had managed to get along, yes, but it had been awkward, and when the sons of the earl of Dalton had passed through the village on their journey home, it hadn't taken much deliberation for Kurt to join their party, seeking employment in the south. He had never wanted to return. And yet, here he was, back at Lima, just where he started.

Well, not quite where he started.

He looked up from the herbs he was cutting for Carol, and out of the window. He could see the smithy from here, and the smoke rising from its chimney. He knew that right now, Finn and his father were working hard to earn their living. Kurt bit his lip, feeling slightly remorseful. Things would be more complicated now that the family was missing the money Kurt had sent from his wages, and had two more mouths to feed in addition... But he could never regret bringing Blaine here.

Outside, in the garden, Kurt could hear the sound of an ax. He turned his head further, so he could see better. Blaine was at the chopping block, just placing a new log onto it. It was still summer, but a blacksmith always needed firewood, and Blaine had offered taking care of it. Kurt knew that it didn't come easy to him. The young lords all trained in fighting, of course, and at his best times Blaine wouldn't have had a problem with it. But he had spent a year in the south, where Sebastian had just not involved him in any form of training. Blaine was still regaining the strength he needed for this chore. At least it was getting better.

But it wasn't alright yet.

Blaine had used the last few weeks, including their journey north, to start healing. Kurt was aware that it would take more time. Right now, Blaine was still trying to find a place here.

It had been easier for Kurt to settle back into life in Lima. He had his family here, and he could easily return to assisting his stepmother Carol, a healer and midwife, by preparing and brewing herbal remedies. Blaine on the other hand had come to a strange place, into a family he didn't know, with nothing to do and hardly any of the skills commoners needed and used to survive. All he had here in the north was Kurt.

Could he be enough?

“Enjoying the view?”

Kurt flinched in surprise when Carol spoke. “What?” he asked.

She threw a pointed look at the herbs that Kurt had stopped cutting up, and then looked out of the window where Blaine was wiping the sweat from his face before he turned back to chopping. It was hard not to notice just how gorgeous he looked. Kurt's cheeks flushed, but the sparkle in Carol's eyes told him he didn't need to hide it. He knew that, of course. His family knew about his preferences – neither his father nor Carol had ever cared, and even Finn didn't mind anymore.

“Well, while I can understand your preoccupation, do you think you could remember the herbs?” Carol asked. “We still have things to prepare.”

“It's not like that,” Kurt said, willing the blood to flow from his cheek. “It's just... I worry about him.”

Carol nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine you would,” she said. “He's been through a lot, hasn't he?”

“He has,” Kurt agreed.

Of course, he hadn't been through the things people thought he had. Kurt still sometimes had problems remembering every aspect of the official story.

According to the north, Blaine had been forced through blackmail and southern intrigue to abandon his fiancée and their unborn daughter, which had resulted in the unlawful union with Sebastian – a union that had tragically ended in the library fire that had taken Blaine's life, and was widely suspected to be a disguised murder, committed by Sebastian. After all, the fire had come closely after another murder attempt, the one by strangling, that had also been publicized, probably by Kitty.

Kurt had been surprised at first that this story had traveled even to Lima, but apparently the Queen in the North wanted her subjects to know about this. It was clever, too, as Blaine had explained. He had expected that the engagement would be the connection they'd use to bind Dalton to the north, but to use the child... Blaine had been really impressed. He knew the official story by heart, too. Once or twice, Kurt even found himself feeling jealous of Quinn, and their oh so tragic separation. He had to actively remind himself how much Blaine had hated the idea of marrying her.

“He's still recovering, then?” Carol asked, still looking outside, watching Blaine.

“He's better already,” Kurt said, “but I still worry. I don't feel like he has actually arrived here, you know? It's almost like...” He stopped surprised at the observation he had been about to make. It hadn't occurred to him before, but now that the thought had come to his mind, it seemed obvious. “He's waiting,” he finished.

“For what?” Carol asked.

“I don't know. Probably for something bad to happen,” Kurt said. “I just wish I could help him.”

“You saved his life,” Carol said. “And even apart from that... I think you already are helping him. You might not see it, but it's fairly obvious to me. Just give him time, and space.”

“I'll try,” Kurt said. But it was hard to watch. He wished he could be more helpful, to find something that would make Blaine happy again. When they had been in the south, he had only thought of getting Blaine away from Sebastian and his horrible family. Back then, whatever came after their escape just had to wait until they were safe. And now that they were...

Blaine was safe, but he hadn't found himself yet. Something was blocking him, stopped him from leaving it all behind. And Kurt just couldn't figure out how to help him push through and shake it off. There had to be something he could do, something to fix this...

But what if there wasn't?

He wanted Blaine to be happy, with all his heart. But maybe there was a point where Kurt couldn't do anything else. Maybe this was something that Blaine could only figure out himself, and no matter how much Kurt wanted to help, the only thing he could do was to be there for him and support him as well as he could. He couldn't fix everything. Blaine needed to heal out of his own strength, and with time.

Kurt knew all that.

It didn't stop him from getting distracted at every moment, looking out to where Blaine did the wood chopping as well as minor chores around the house for the rest of the afternoon. It didn't help that there was something he hadn't told Blaine yet.

Carol had been asked to assist at a convent nearby, a place where she had lived for a while after her first husband's death. They had sent a letter, asking her to help them during an epidemic that had afflicted their senior physician. It had sounded like there was a lot of work. Carol had agreed to come visit them for a few days to help, but she had asked Kurt to accompany her. It wouldn't be the first time that Kurt had accompanied her to the convent.

He was only concerned on how Blaine would react to the news that he was leaving for a while. Kurt hated the mere thought of leaving him behind, but the convent hosted noble travelers. Blaine had stayed there when travelling with his family as well. If he was recognized... No, they couldn't risk it.

“Have you told him yet?” Carol asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Not yet,” Kurt said. “I just didn't find the right moment.”

“You have to tell him,” Carol said. “It will only be for a few days. And really, it might not be such a bad thing.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked.

Carol shrugged. “Maybe it will help. Give him a few days to get better used to this place and to the family without you there as a backup. It might make him feel safer if he sees that he'll be fine on his own too. And I’ll make sure to tell your father and Finn to treat him right.”

Kurt tilted his head, thinking about it. He hadn't seen it from this perspective, and he wasn't quite sure Blaine would see it the same way. But what could he do?

“I'll tell him tonight,” he said eventually. “I just hope he'll be okay.”

Carol nodded and returned to chop up the herbs. But Kurt couldn't let go of his thoughts for the rest of the day, especially whenever he looked outside and saw Blaine, trying so hard to be helpful...

Even as they sat together for dinner, he wasn't fully present, too worried on how to say it.

Dinner was still a bit awkward in this new family constellation. Blaine clearly didn't feel too comfortable in his own skin sitting when he felt that everyone but him had spent the day doing useful work. He never knew what he could talk to them about, so he usually stayed silent. He did, however, sit close enough to Kurt that their legs were touching, and when they were done eating, they always held each others' hands under the protection of the table. It still felt secretive, but not in the oppressive way things had been at the Smythe family home. Of course, Kurt's family already knew what was going on between them.

But as they prepared for the night, Kurt found himself wondering what exactly it even was that was going on between them.

As they returned to their room, Kurt once more was grateful that his family was wealthier than most commoners, and their home had two bedrooms. The night they arrived at Lima, Finn had without even asking a question moved from the second bedroom to sleep in the living room, and Kurt and Blaine had taken the room. It was at least a little refuge for Blaine, who had grown up with so much more privacy.

Like every night, when Kurt closed the door to their room behind them, he could see the restraints falling off Blaine, at least a little bit. He seemed more relaxed when it was just the two of them. When they had dressed down to only pants, Kurt reached out to take Blaine's hand to lead him to the mattress. It was coarse, compared to what Blaine was used to, and Kurt had tried his best to make it softer by putting blankets over it. He still wondered whether it was too rough, but Blaine had never complained, not even looked as if he was uncomfortable. He held Kurt's hand and lay down with him under a shared blanket. Within moments, they were embracing each other, their leg entangled, and their faces so close that Kurt could feel his breath.

“How was your day?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine smiled, but instead of answering, he connected their lips in a soft, yearning kiss. At first, when Blaine had done this, Kurt had been too distracted to remember what he had wanted to ask. Gradually, he had become annoyed, thinking Blaine was consciously distracting him from his questions. By now, Kurt knew that there was no malice – all it meant was that Blaine didn't want to talk. So he relaxed, pulling them closer together.

It was comfortable like this, just the two of them. There was none of the fear and desperation that had been there back at the Smythe castle. On their journey north, they had hardly found any opportunity to get closer. They had traveled all day, and at night they had camped wherever they found shelter. When they managed to stay at a tavern, they had to share the room with too many other travelers, and on the few occasions they found some privacy, they had both been too exhausted to do much more than holding each other and sharing a few kisses. Once, they had found privacy in a farmer's barn. They hadn't slept together, but they had gone further than before, and further than ever since. For the rest of the trip there had been no opportunity.

Now, Kurt wasn't so sure whether it had been exhaustion that had held them back.

At night, when they cuddled together under their blankets, their hands and lips exploring usually covered skin, it seemed so easy, so intoxicating to get lost in each other. It was hard to just stop there. Kurt longed to go further, to see every inch of Blaine's skin, to touch, and be touched, to share everything, to lie together. But somehow, they weren't on the same page here, and he felt too awkward, to insecure and inexperienced to talk about it. He knew that Blaine loved him, was certain that he wanted just as much intimacy... but something was holding him back.

Sometimes, he thought they could push through whatever it was. Like now, when Blaine looked at him with lust-blown eyes, before he dipped down his head to suck a love bite into Kurt's skin. It was too much, too hot, and before Kurt could control himself, his hips snapped forward. For a second, he felt a responding pressure against his thigh, and he dared to hope it would be alright.

But in the next moment, he felt Blaine tense, and then came what he had gotten used to.

“Can we... slow down?”

And as always, Kurt swallowed down the sting of disappointment. He loosened his hold around Blaine and let him put distance between them, allowing both of them to regain heir breath. It was alright, he told himself. So maybe they were progressing more slowly than he would have expected, but that was fine, too. The important thing was that they were together. Everything else would fall into place.

He looked up again, his emotions calmer now, and felt guilty immediately. There was insecurity in Blaine's eyes, just the slightest hints of nerves. Kurt hated seeing him like this. He wasn't sure what was holding them back, but he never wanted Blaine to be afraid to set his own boundaries. He wanted them to be closer, to share everything... but he wouldn't rush it. They would figure it out in time.

So he bowed forward, kissing Blaine softly, just a small gesture of reassurance. He could feel Blaine relax almost immediately.

Kurt smiled, putting another soft kiss onto Blaine's lips. But now his own nerves were getting the better of him again. This was bad timing, but he had to tell Blaine that he was going to leave for a few days, and he was running out of opportunities.

Blaine frowned, sensing that something was wrong. “Kurt?” he asked. “What's going on? You've been anxious all day...”

Kurt sighed. This was it then.

“Blaine... there's something I need to tell you...”

* * *

Blaine had been anxious when Kurt had left for the convent. He hadn't wanted Kurt to go, but mostly, he hadn't wanted to be left alone here with Burt Hummel and his stepson.

They had never been unkind, even when Kurt had brought him to their door step. They had welcomed him, hidden him, he had been fed and clothed... and they had treated him well. There had been no disdain because he was completely useless with chores, or couldn’t really help with any work. There hadn't been one odd look when Kurt held his hand, or in the few occasions anybody saw them even closer to each other.

But Kurt had been around all that time. Now, Blaine would be alone with them, and Kurt would be far away. So what would happen now? Would their demeanor change? Would they treat him the way Sebastian's family had?

He would feel calmer if it wasn't such a familiar situation. But here he was again, at a strange place, with a family that didn't need him and that he didn't fit into, with only one person he was close to. Was he just making the same mistakes again and again?

But the days passed, and they didn't treat him any different. They didn't talk much, but they never did. He didn't know what to do all day, and neither of them had tasks for him. That was just more of the usual, though. Blaine was a bit bored, but after the last year, he knew he should be grateful if this was all he could complain about.

He still wasn't happy with it. He couldn't do much here that had any use for anyone. Of course, he wasn't quite sure when he had started thinking like that in the first place. At Dalton, he had never tried to be useful to his family, but rather had spent his time with things he enjoyed. At the Smythe castle, he had just tried to stay out of the way and hope not to be noticed too much. But things were different now. Kurt's family had taken him in, a complete stranger that was just a burden to them, and only because Kurt wanted to be with him. He felt like he should at least do something to repay them. He definitely didn't want to wait until Kurt's family decided he was more trouble than anything, and turned against him... like Sebastian's family had.

Today, he was once again chopping wood in the backyard – an activity, that made him feel at least a little bit useful. And once more, he found his thoughts wandering off to Quinn, as it happened more often lately. How was she doing, taken in by the Queen in the North? From the news he got here at Lima, she seemed to flourish in her new role as crown princess. Her daughter would grow up in splendor, a much better fate than that of a bastard that Duke Fabray had doomed her too. Blaine was relieved they were alright, although he wasn't quite sure just how well Quinn was doing. It couldn't be easy having to follow Queen Sue's machinations...

And sometimes, when he thought of Quinn, he thought of how things could have been. How easily could their fate have been completely different? If Quinn had talked to him, if his father hadn't been so insistent on his honor... he would have married her, back then. He'd either still be at Dalton, or he'd live with Quinn's family now. He'd be raising her child as his. When he thought about it, it seemed so much easier than the life he had now. He wouldn't have to be afraid of Quinn as he'd been afraid of Sebastian. He wondered whether he would have had to try so hard with Quinn's family. Most importantly, he wouldn't have to ask himself every night just what was holding him back from being with the man he loved.

His thoughts were interrupted, when he could hear loud voices at the smithy. He stopped and listened, hoping that nothing was wrong. When the voices didn't cede, Blaine put down the ax and walked inside.

The first thing he noticed was the heat, but once he had gotten used to it, he could see Burt Hummel sitting on a chair, while Finn was standing in front of him, arguing with him about something. But his tirade was interrupted when the man on the chair started thundering.

“Damn it, Finn, I'll take a break when I want to!”

“You have to take care of your heart!” Finn replied. “We're fine, I can handle this. You don't have to work yourself to death!”

“I'm fine, I was just dizzy for a moment,” Burt replied. “Now you go back to work. I'll sit down for a few minutes and then I'll help you again.”

Finn turned around in frustration, and his eyes fell to Blaine. In a split second, he must have made a decision.

“He can help me,” he said, nodding towards Blaine.

“Me?”

Burt turned towards him, a frown on his face. Blaine could see that he was paler than usual. He remembered vaguely that Kurt had said something about his father having health problems. He wasn't sure what helping at the smithy entailed, but he understood that he needed to step up now.

“Me. Yes, sure, I can help,” he said quickly.

Finn was visibly relieved, and for a second he had the feeling that the same was true about Kurt's father.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Burt asked.

“I'm sure,” Blaine said, although he had no idea what he had just agreed to.

“We'll take an easy workload, he'll be fine,” Finn said.

“Don't worry about it, I can handle it,” Blaine reassured him.

Burt looked between them as if he couldn't decide what to do, but eventually he nodded. “Alright, but you boys call me when you're in over your heads.”

As they nodded, he turned around, walking to the house.

Finn waited until he had stepped inside, before he looked to Blaine. “Thanks for that.”

“It's not a problem,” Blaine said. “Kurt told me that his health isn't the best.”

“He had a heart attack a few years back,” Finn explained, “it's a miracle that he survived. That's the reason that I came back here. Kurt was working at Dalton, and Burt was on his own with the work. He couldn't handle it, so I had to come and help. But it's good work, I really like it.”

Blaine frowned. “Come back?” he asked. “Where were you before?”

Finn hesitated and looked him over, as if he wasn't sure how much to say. Eventually though, he spoke up again, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I used to be a squire. My father... my real father was a knight serving Lord Berry, and the family took me on as a squire once I was old enough. I lived at the castle for a while.”

“I remember the family,” Blaine said, nodding. “Lady Rachel was a close friend when we were children. We were considered a certain match, before the political situation got so out of hand...”

“She's really special, isn't she?” Finn said. He got a wistful look on his face.

Blaine's eyes widened once he realized what was going on. “You're in love with her,” he said.

Finn looked as if he'd been caught. “I... That's... ridiculous,” he said. “She's a lady. I'm a failed squire.”

“Love doesn't care about class,” Blaine said dismissively, “trust me, I know about that.”

“Because you love my brother.” It was a statement, not a question.

Now Blaine was the one to look away. He could feel the blood rush to his face. But he didn't need to hide anymore, and he didn't want to. “I do,” he said.

“He loves you, too. It's really obvious. I mean... I guess you knew that already,” Finn said.

Blaine felt himself smile involuntarily. “Yeah, I knew that,” he said.

“You don't have to pretend not to,” Finn said. “If that's what you're doing, I don't know. It's just... nobody minds here. I mean... in Lima, probably. But my mother and Burt and I, we don't care. Kurt deserves to be happy. And I don't know you that well, but I know you've been through a lot of stuff, and I think you deserve it too.”

Blaine could feel that he was blushing even harder now, but he smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “But what about you and Rachel? I mean... if I may ask?”

“I don't usually talk about it. But I actually think you ought to hear this. Maybe it will even help you,” Finn said. “I was a squire for a few years. I remember exactly the first time I saw her. The Lord's family was coming to dinner, and she was late. Everybody was in the hall already, and they were all eating. I didn't even know anybody was missing. And then... then she came into the room. Everybody stopped talking and eating. She looked around, as if she was approving of every single person present. And then, she looked at me, and she smiled. I think I was gone that second.”

Blaine thought back to Lady Rachel. He could imagine her so well, making sure every eye was on her...

“I got to know her quite well. Once I was better at fighting, I was often chosen as a bodyguard for her. She told me all the stories she had learned from the bards. She loves singing, never missed an opportunity for a song. And I loved listening. She even taught me a few songs. It was too hard not to fall in love with her.”

“What about her? Did she have feelings for you too?” Blaine asked.

“I... think she did. She definitely liked me. But it was hopeless from the start. She's a lady, I was just a squire.”

“And I was a lord and fell in love with a kitchen servant,” Blaine said. “Life is funny like that.”

“Not always,” Finn replied. “And I'm not sure she really loved me... but she was fond of me. I don't know where it was going, but it was good while it lasted.”

“What happened?” Blaine asked.

“I told you, Burt was sick, so I came back home. At first, he and mother didn't want me to. They wanted me to stay at the castle and be a knight. They kept telling me they would make it work somehow. But I couldn't let down my family, so I returned. At first, Burt sat back and told me what to do. I had helped out on occasion before, so I wasn't completely inexperienced. And over time I learned even more, until I could do everything myself. Burt returned to work once he felt better, but he still has to take it slower than before.”

“So what are your plans?” Blaine asked. “Will you return to the castle eventually?”

Finn shook his head. “No, that's over,” he said. “I'm here now, this is my life. I will take over the smithy once Burt admits he's getting too old for it. It's a good business, and eventually, I'll be able to feed a family from it.”

Blaine frowned. “And Rachel?”

Finn shrugged. “Lady Rachel will find a lord to marry and be happy with her life.”

It never ended like this, but Blaine figured that this was not the right time to explain to Finn just how those matches usually went. “Don't you want to be with her?” he asked instead. “You could find a way, if you tried.”

Finn hesitated. “How could that work?”

“It might be harder now... but before we came, your family could have managed without you returning. There were Kurt's wages, and your mother is making some money, too, isn't she?. You could have made a deal with the Berry family, to have them send money to your family. Burt and Carol could have sold the smithy, or maybe hired somebody... Even now, something could be figured out. You could teach me, maybe, and leave once I can fill in for you.”

Finn shook his head. “I've actually played it all through in my head when I returned here,” he said. “But...” He frowned, as if he was arguing with himself whether he should keep talking. But eventually, he sighed. “I want to tell you something. Maybe I shouldn't. Kurt would probably be angry if I said it, but... I've been watching you since you came here, and you seem kind of unhappy. Maybe this could help you, too.”

Unhappy... Blaine was surprised to hear it, but he didn't have it in him to deny it. He wasn't happy. He still felt so detached, in a state of vertigo, unsure where to go or what to do... So he looked up to Finn expectantly. “What is it?”

“At first, when I came back, I was brooding all the time. I just wanted to go back to the castle, and to walk up to Lady Rachel and tell her that I loved her. A squire would never have a chance with her, but a knight wouldn't be completely out of her league. I imagined what it would be like to go back to her, the look on her face... and then I started to think about how to make it happen. I had a really detailed plan, actually, and I'm sure it would have worked. But once I had the plan down to every detail, I realized something.”

“And what was that?”

“I didn't want to go back,” Finn said. “I will always love Lady Rachel, I know that. And I liked the other squires, and being part of that. But it wasn't the life I wanted. This, here? Working with Burt, being home with my family? This is what makes me happy. I don't belong at a castle, I never belonged there. I miss Lady Rachel, but I can't become somebody I'm not – not even for her. Maybe I needed some time to realize this. Or maybe I couldn't see it until I knew that I actually had the option to go back. But it's true. So... it wasn't what I would have chosen, but coming back here was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Blaine bit his lip, trying to get order into his thoughts. It was similar to his own situation, in a way. He loved Kurt, there was no doubt about it. But did he fit into this life at all? Could he live like a commoner? He hadn't learned any necessary skill for it. He was useless. But unlike Finn, he didn't have a choice.

Or did he?

“Sorry to unload on you like this,” Finn said. “I just... I felt I should tell you.”

“I think... I think I needed to hear it,” Blaine said. “Thank you. But... I need to think. A lot.”

“Sure, take your time,” Finn said. “But, um... can you think while working? It would really help.”

“Oh, sure,” Blaine said. “So... what do you need me to do?”

Now was not the time to think about it. He listened carefully to Finn's instructions and tried to follow them to the letter. It wasn't what he was used to. Growing up, he had spent more time studying than with physical training, though there had been exercises like sword fighting, or riding. Back then, it had seemed tiring, but now he realized that it didn't even come close to actual physical work.

When the evening fell and they finished up, Blaine felt completely exhausted, but not in a way he was used to. He was quite sure that Finn had given him easier tasks, and that there was much harder work to be done. Still, it was enough to tire him out.

“Don't worry, there'll be enough time to work up to the real stuff,” Finn said. “I mean... if you want to? You don't have to, I think Burt will be fine soon enough. It's not like you have to work here to stay. Or that you have to stay. Just... if you want to work here, I'm sure we can teach you everything.”

Blaine was surprised by how little hesitation he felt. “I'd like that,” he said. “But now I really want to eat...”

He was quiet during dinner, just listening to the conversation between Burt and Finn. When he excused himself and returned to the room he usually shared with Kurt, his thoughts went back to the conversation he'd had with Finn earlier.

Finn had found happiness when he had realized that his home and family were the place he belonged to.

It wasn't so easy for Blaine. After everything that had happened during the last year, he wasn't sure he even knew where he belonged. Certainly, he didn't belong at the Smythe castle. But he didn't actually fit in here, either – this commoners' life that he couldn't deal with. The Hummel family had welcomed him, but he wasn't sure he would ever be a real part of it. Where else could he belong then? The northern capital, at Quinn's side? Or back at Dalton, where his brother was the earl now?

Had Dalton even been the place he belonged when he had lived there? His parents hadn't paid much attention to him, and his brother...

Cooper had forced their father to abdicate and broken Dalton's alliance to the south, binding it completely to the Queen in the North. It might have counted as extraordinary devotion. All Blaine could think of was that it would have been better if Cooper had done anything when he could have still taken a benefit from it.

What if he didn't belong anywhere?

He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything. There had to be some place that felt like home...

Home...

Not a place. It had never been about that. A place couldn't love him or care for him, couldn't make him feel welcome, or safe, or any of that. It was Kurt. Even at Dalton, he had been the person who tried to understand Blaine, who was close to him, and had always tried to made him feel cared for.

He didn't need a place where he belonged. Kurt loved him, cared for him, offered him everything. He was just too scared to accept it. But what was he really scared of?

That it wouldn't work out? That Kurt would get bored with him like Sebastian had? That he would end up in a place he didn't belong, with people who didn't care about him...

Those were ridiculous reasons. Even if things went wrong, he wasn't without a choice. He could return to Dalton, even if that meant giving himself into Queen Sue's plans for him, whatever they were. The point was, he did have options. He had made a conscious choice to come here, and he could make a different choice anytime.

Now here, alone in Kurt's dark room, enveloped in his scent, Blaine found the courage to even think of the truth.

He believed in Kurt without a shadow of a doubt. It was himself that he didn't trust. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he screwed up the one good thing he had? That was why he didn't get close to Kurt's family, why he couldn't allow himself to become part of this commoners' life, and it was the reason why he shied away from consuming their relationship. If he wasn't good enough... if Kurt got tired of him, like Sebastian had... then what did he have left?

It was a stupid thought, rooted in his own feelings of inadequacy. Kurt wasn't Sebastian, was nothing like Sebastian. He didn't give up on people, otherwise he wouldn't have stood by Blaine through all this. No, it was obvious now. It was just his own fear that wwas holding him back.

Had he really even for a second considered running back to Dalton, and Quinn, and all those political machinations – just because he was scared? He didn't want to marry Quinn. How could he have forgotten that? He hadn't wanted Quinn, he hadn't even really wanted Sebastian, and he didn't want Dalton either. He wanted to be with Kurt. It was just everything else that scared him.

But that could be changed. He didn't have to wait for something to go wrong. Kurt had shown so much courage yet, it was time Blaine followed his example. He had started already, by leaving Sebastian, but it wasn't enough. He had to let go of his fear, to make a leap of faith and hope that Kurt would be there to catch him. From now on, Blaine would meet his fear and overcome it. He had made a choice because he had wanted to have a life.

It was time to start living it.

* * *

Kurt was exhausted when they finally reached Lima in the afternoon, and he knew the same was true for Carol. They had traveled for too long, and the work at the convent had been extremely tiring. But they had done good work, and they had helped. It had been a success.

Now, Kurt was tired of helping and treating sick people. All he wanted was to see Blaine again, to hold him, to kiss him...

But when they came to the house, it was locked and empty. The backyard, too, was deserted. While Carol went to lie down and rest, Kurt went to his own room. Blaine wasn't there. He looked through every other room, but there was no trace of his love. Blaine was nowhere to be found.

He had probably gone to run some errand for Kurt's father, maybe buy something in the village. Kurt wasn't worried. Lima wasn't an especially dangerous place, and Blaine could take care of himself. For a split second the thought came to his mind that Blaine might have left completely – but no, that was ridiculous. After everything they'd been through, he wouldn't just leave without talking to Kurt, even if he was unhappy here.

At this thought, Kurt did feel concerned. Blaine wouldn't just leave while Kurt was gone. But what if he did want to leave some day? This wasn't a life he was used to, and now he had a better idea of what the Queen in the North had planned for him. Maybe now the idea of joining forces with her didn't seem so scary anymore. And what could Kurt give him? Lima?

Kurt started to feel restless. He had just wanted to see Blaine, to talk and tell him about the convent, to be close to him, hold him, maybe kiss him... But apparently, that had to wait. For a moment, he wondered what else he could do. Maybe it would be a good idea to get some rest like Carol had...

Instead, he found himself walking to the smithy. His father would know where Blaine was, and even if he didn't, he could probably take a break and would want to hear about the convent as well.

As always, it was way too hot in the smithy – one of the reasons why Kurt tried to stay out of it as much as possible. It was also too loud with the loud clanging of hammers falling onto metal. He could see Finn working on some kind of tool in the front, and when he looked up, he could see his father standing in front of the anvil, but he wasn't the one working, just talking to someone.

It was Blaine.

Kurt felt the air leave him in an exhale of relief. Blaine was here. Of course he was, where else would he be?

For a moment, Kurt watched the scene. Blaine held a hammer and looked at the metal resting on the anvil sceptically. Burt was saying something, and Blaine started to bring the hammer down. With further instructions from Burt, he changed his technique in beating down on the metal. Eventually, he took a pair of tongs, picked up the tool he'd been working on, and dipped it into the bucket of water.

Burt said something that made Blaine laugh and turn his head away – and then, his eyes fell onto Kurt.

For a moment, Blaine looked at him as if in awe. The corners of his mouth went up, and he looked...

Happy. How long had it been, since he had looked truly happy?

Blaine walked up to him, putting his arms around him. On instinct, Kurt raised his arms and pulled him closed. He could feel Blaine's breath against the skin of his neck. Then, Blaine pulled back slightly so they faced each other. For a second, Kurt could see hesitation in his eyes, but then it was gone. Blaine closed his eyes, and then put his lips onto Kurt's in a peck.

“You're back,” he whispered.

“Y-yeah,” Kurt said. “And... you're here...”

“He's been helping out,” Finn said, walking over now too. “Apparently, those nobles don't get anything useful taught in all their lessons. We have to start from scratch.”

Kurt's eyes widened, shocked that Finn would be so tactless. But to his surprise, Blaine rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Says the wannabe knight,” he replied, apparently not the least bit impressed by Finn's words.

Finn chuckled, and only then did Kurt realize that there hadn't been any malice behind what he'd said. They'd been joking.

“You boys behave,” Burt now interrupted them. “But let me tell you, Kurt, your boy's got some talent. He's been a real help.”

“There's still a lot to learn, though,” Blaine said.

“You're... learning?” Kurt asked.

“Why not?” Finn said. “We can use an apprentice.”

“And he's doing a good job so far,” Burt added. “Besides, he can't spend all day chopping woods. We'll run out of trees before winter.”

Kurt looked between the three of them as they started to chuckle again and it was a little hard to understand what was happening. When had they started working together, or to joke around? How long had he been gone again?

“Are you alright?” Blaine asked softly.

“I'm a bit tired,” Kurt said. “Maybe I should lie down for a while, like Carol did.”

Their hands intertwined, and he could see the concern and longing in Blaine's eyes. He clearly didn't want to let go of Kurt this fast. He also noticed how behind them Burt and Finn exchanged looks as if in a silent discussion. Eventually, his father spoke.

“Why don't you take the rest of the day off, boy?” he asked, nodding at Blaine.

“Are you sure?” Blaine asked. He clearly wanted to go, but despite the joking he wasn't quite comfortable enough yet to just leave.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Burt said. “Now get out of here, and don't make me repeat myself.” Although the words were almost menacing, there was warmth in the tone. Kurt felt relieved that they were getting along.

As they walked towards the house, Kurt caught himself watching Blaine. Something as different about him. He seemed calmer, more relaxed. The discomfort he had showed earlier around the family seemed to have lessened, although there was still some of it left. There was also a certain carefulness in his eyes when he looked to their intertwined hands. This was something new as well, and Kurt felt a bit nervous himself. It was stupid, nobody could see them – at least nobody who minded. Maybe it was because he was so used to hiding what they meant to each other. Blaine had been especially careful during the last weeks not to show off their relationship, concerned with how Kurt's family would react. Now, he at least didn't seem worried anymore.

Blaine noticed Kurt's eyes on him and stopped for a second. Then, a smile appeared on his face, and he squeezed Kurt's hand before he continued to walk to the house Kurt followed, falling in step beside Blaine, walking even a bit closer now than before.

Even when they entered the house and walked up to the bedroom they shared, Blaine ever let go of his hand. Kurt couldn't even say why he felt so... giddy, or why Blaine seemed so much more relaxed today.

“You look exhausted,” Blaine said softly, as they sat down on the bed, side by side.

“We worked much,” Kurt said. “But we did well. It was good work. I'm just a bit tired.”

“I can imagine,” Blaine said softly. He smiled, but there was clearly something on his mind. He seemed almost a bit antsy.

“So you've been starting an apprenticeship?” he asked.

Blaine chuckled, but looked down self-consciously. “I, um... I stared helping out,” he said. “Don't be too worried, but your father has been feeling a bit weak lately. Finn thought it better to take some work off his shoulders.”

“Is he alright?” Kurt asked, unable to hide the concern.

“He's fine, he just needs to rest more,” Blaine said. “Maybe it's already enough if I keep working there. Finn seems to think so.”

“What about you? I don't want you to do something you hate, just because you feel obligated.”

“It's not that,” Blaine said. “I actually liked working with your family. So fine, being a smith isn't what I always wanted to do with my life... but nothing has turned out the way I thought it would, so why not give it a try?”

To Kurt's surprise, there wasn't even a hint of bitterness in Blaine's voice. It was as if he'd just made an observation. Something had changed. He didn't seem as cautious or fearful as he had before Kurt had left. When he had been working, he had seemed actually happy. Even now when they were alone, Blaine seemed less restrained – and Kurt hadn't even noticed there had been any restrains until now that they were gone.

“I feel like I've missed something here,” Kurt said. “Not that I'm complaining... but what happened?”

Blaine hesitated for a moment, as if he was looking for the right words. “I've been thinking,” he said eventually. “I talked to your brother, about what it was like for him to leave that castle and return here. And I realized something. Kurt, the truth is... I've been unhappy here. Not miserable, like I was with Sebastian. Just... not happy. I thought it was because I don't know how to deal with this kind of life, or maybe because I missed Dalton, and Cooper, and Quinn. But it wasn't any of that. I was just scared. I was half expecting something bad to happen, or for you to get tired of me, or for your family to reject me... but now I realized how ridiculous that was.”

“Of course it's ridiculous. I will never get tired of you,” Kurt said.

“I know,” Blaine said. “You're the one thing I know I can rely on. It was a stupid fear. And I don't want to go back to Dalton. I never wanted to marry Quinn in the first place, why would that change now? And Cooper... he couldn't be bothered to help me until he thought I was dead. I think this is in the past as well. I don't want any of that. What I really want.. that's you.”

He looked up at Kurt, his face completely open and vulnerable.

It was the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen.

“And I realized... I'm not here because I have to be, or because I have no choice. I'm here because I want to be with you. And everything else? That's just details. I can learn to get used to this life, working with your family is just the first step there. And it's important – I do need other things in my life beside you. I can't put all my happiness on you, it's asking too much, and I don’t want to weigh us down. So I find work, and I find something to do with my time. I'll try to deal with everything that happened with Sebastian and his family, I'll figure out what I want to do... step by step. But however many steps it takes... it's alright. Because it means I get to be with you.”

He placed a hand onto Kurt's cheeks, looking at him full of devotion. Eventually, he leaned forward, joining their lips in one deep soulful kiss. Kurt felt almost dizzy by the time they parted.

“I love you,” Kurt breathed. It was sinking in slowly what was happening. Blaine wasn't leaving, not now, and not in the future. He wasn't miserable, he was learning to be happy. They would be together, not without any bumps on the road ahead, but they would have each other, and they were both willing to hold onto this.

As they kept kissing, they sank back into the mattress. Everything started feeling too hot, almost too much... Kurt remembered that one time on their journey north, when things had gotten heated up like this. Back then, they had stopped before it had gotten too far. Now, he realized that it hadn't been far enough. He could feel his blood rushing down, a moan working its way up through his throat, as Blaine moved on top of him, their lips never separating. His arms went around Blaine's waist, his hands moving up underneath his shirt, exploring the skin there. He wished he could see, but he wasn't going to push his luck. Blaine's hands found their way into his hair, grasping it as he deepened their kiss before moving down over Kurt's jaw, his throat, eventually sucking at the hollow above his clavicle.

Kurt gasped, and once more, he felt his hips rolling against Blaine, before he could stop himself.

Blaine stopped in his movements. Kurt cursed himself, wishing he had somehow found at least a little bit of more self-control. He wasn't sure if he should apologize or not. Blaine sat up, straddling him. He looked down at Kurt with just a hint of insecurity, and then he took off his shirt, letting it fall by the side of the bed. Kurt's eyes widened, staring at him. His hands unconsciously gripped around Blaine’s hips, holding on to him.

Blaine looked back at him, even though Kurt found it hard to focus on his eyes. He put a hand onto Kurt's cheek, making him look up. He was smiling.

“I want to share my life with you,” Blaine said softly. “I want to share everything.”

Kurt sat up, too. “I want that, too.”

Blaine's arms found their way around his back again, clutching at Kurt's shirt for a moment, before pulling it off.

“I want to be with you,” Blaine continued, still looking at him intently. “Completely.”

Kurt blinked at him with barely suppressed anticipation. “Blaine?”

Blaine took a deep breath before he spoke again, and when he did, Kurt could hardly believe it. “Lie with me?”

Kurt stared at him, and for a moment he wondered whether he had misheard. But Blaine looked at him, his expression completely certain. He carefully stroked over the skin at Kurt's back. He was clearly waiting for an answer, not impatient or worried, but just curious.

It took embarrassingly long until Kurt found his speech again. Even then, all he could think of was one question.

“Are you sure?”

Blaine pressed a soft kiss against Kurt's lips. “Absolutely,” he said softly. Then, a hint of shy insecurity sneaked back into his eyes. “Do you... want to?”

“I... _yes_ , so much.”

Blaine laughed softly. “Good, we're on the same page then,” he said. “I was almost worried there...”

Kurt felt himself grin, too, and he kissed him again. Then, it was him who hesitated. “It's just... I've never...”

“Doesn't matter,” Blaine replied. “Just...”

“What?”

Blaine bit his lip, and for a second he was avoiding Kurt's eye, before he looked up again. “Be gentle, please.”

Kurt's eyes widened. He knew there were things they hadn't talked about yet, that he didn't know whether they ever had to discuss. But tonight wasn't the time for that. So instead, he held Blaine's face in his hands.

“I promise. I love you.”

Blaine's breath hitched, as he surged forward into another kiss. For a moment, Kurt forgot the anticipation, just focused on how warm, how intimate the kiss and the embrace was.

When Blaine spoke again, he almost breathed the words against Kurt's lips. “I love you, too.”

Kurt closed his eyes for a second. This was what he had wanted, to have Blaine love him back, to be together, free from politics, and families, just them... He hadn't expected it would ever happen. Now, it seemed almost too good to be true. But it was true, it was real. He couldn't have imagined what it would feel like to take off the last layers of fabric between them, to allow himself to look, and to be seen. He couldn't have foreseen what it would do to him, when they touched each other, the noises Blaine made as he kissed every inch of his love's skin. And what it felt like as they actually lay together... He had never been this close to another person, and he had no desire to have anyone else. He couldn't imagine ever wanting to.

Later, when they were lying side by side together, their hands tightly intertwined Kurt was slowly starting to put together the right words for what he felt. Warm, and happy, but still... vulnerable, raw...He turned around to face Blaine, who looked just as awed as he felt. There was the gleam of tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked.

“I am,” Blaine whispered. “I just... I didn't know it could be like this.”

Kurt blinked in confusion, but then he felt a smile appear on his face. “Neither did I.”

Blaine laughed, so full of happiness that Kurt couldn't help but join in.

“Just come here,” Blaine said, pulled him close and kissed him.

Kurt allowed it, reveling in the closeness, and the knowledge that this was it – the beginning of their new life together. It had finally started.

* * *

A cold wind blew through the Caverra trees, and Kurt's hands were freezing. He had been surprised how fast the berries were ready here, but of course this was the north. Winter came sooner, and with it the day that the Caverra berries were ripe.

He wouldn't be able to put together a feast as he had when they had still lived at Dalton. But their life didn't have to be what it had been back then. Kurt didn't need it, and he was starting to believe that Blaine didn't either.

Things weren't perfect. Even now, Blaine wasn't completely at ease in this new life. Sometimes Kurt could see it, in the way he moved around the house, as if he expected every mistake he made to end in a disaster. At night, when they lay together, exploring each other in a way Kurt couldn't have imagined, there were still moments when Blaine was hesitant, But there were more good times than bad. Blaine actually enjoyed working with Kurt's family at the forge, and if Finn could be believed, he was learning fast. It was inspiring for Kurt, watching his love growing more confident in his work, more comfortable around the family, and more content with this new life they shared. Now, when Kurt asked Blaine about his day, he got an answer, and then they found something to talk about. And when they were done talking...

He closed his eyes, thinking back to last night. The blood rushed to his cheeks at the thought. The wait had been worth it. But as much as the heat of it made him breathless, it was the intimacy that amazed him the most. Those moments, when he was holding Blaine in his arms, the both of them exhausted and breathing heavily, Kurt actually felt at home.

“Need a hand?”

Kurt looked down in surprise. He hadn't noticed Blaine's approach, but there he stood at the foot of the Caverra tree, watching Kurt with an amused expression. Kurt wondered how long he had been standing there already.

“I didn't hear you,” Kurt said.

“You seemed distracted,” Blaine said. “So, do you need a hand?”

Kurt felt a smile appear on his face, and it was mirrored on Blaine's. He looked to the little basket he had brought, the floor of which was covered with berries.

“Catch?” Kurt asked.

“Go ahead,” Blaine said, his smile getting wider as he caught the basked Kurt dropped, put it to the ground, and then opened his arms again. “Are you coming?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You're insane,” he said.

“Come on,” Blaine said. “I'll catch you. Trust me.”

Kurt noticed that there wasn't even a hint of doubt on his mind. And either way, it wasn't a high drop. “You better,” he said.

A moment later, he had Blaine's arms around him, and was gently put back to his feet. Kurt felt his breath quicken, and was ready to step away, but Blaine kept holding him.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Kurt replied. He felt happy, a bubbling excitement inside his chest, and he felt more carefree than he had in ages. He bowed forward to place a short kiss onto Blaine's lips. “My hero,” he said.

“My love,” Blaine replied, kissing him again. As they parted eventually, he put their foreheads together. “You're up early.”

“The Caverra berries were ready,” Kurt said. “I wanted to gather some for dinner. I know they're your favorite.”

“They are,” Blaine said. “You should wake me next time, though.”

“You work hard,” Kurt said, “and you slept so peacefully. I wanted to let you have some rest.”

Blaine shook his head. “I can sleep anytime,” he said, “but I really enjoy spending time alone with you.”

Kurt felt a wave of warm affection wash through him. “I'd like that,” he said. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. “Well... we are alone now,” he said. “And I'm sure we have some time until we're expected back. So... how about we use that time?”

A glow appeared in Blaine’s eyes, and the next thing Kurt knew, he was pushed against the Caverra tree, Blaine pressed against him and a moment later, they were kissing. Kurt felt almost dizzy with how happy he felt, how relaxed and free. He was sure now that Blaine loved him. But there was something else he wasn't so sure of...

As much as he wanted to continue, he suddenly felt the need to know the truth. So he moved his head,, interrupting the kiss. He had been scared to ask before, and even now he felt nervous, but if he didn't ask now, he probably never would find the courage.

“Blaine?” he asked.

“Yes?” Blaine looked at him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I have to ask...” Kurt said, trying to sound calm. “Are you happy?”

Blaine's eyes widened, but the glow from before got even stronger. “Yes,” he said. “I _am_ happy.” He hesitated. “Are you?”

Kurt put a hand onto Blaine's cheek, carefully stroking the skin there as he watched him, the boy he loved, the one he had never thought he could have. This, them living together, being happy together... it never should have been possible. And yet, here they were, against the odds.

Still smiling, he pressed another soft kiss onto Blaine's lips.

“I couldn't be happier.”

* * *

 

 


End file.
